Little Do You Know
by KnightwingYJ
Summary: The smile on Conner's face faded quickly. He was well aware of what tonight was for, a chance to get the Stern name back into the spotlight. He just wished it wasn't focused in on him.
1. Chapter 1

"This is fucking ridiculous."

The urge to roll his eyes was resisted as Hank's gruff voice pulled him from his inner musings. It wasn't the first time Hank has made this particular statement tonight and Conner would bet his inheritance that it wasn't going to be the last time he would hear it. He did allow himself a quiet sigh as he prepared for another loud and over-the-top Hank Anderson rant. That man had almost no brain-to-mouth filter on certain things. Maybe that's what Conner loved the most about him.

"You're already marrying the girl. Why that hell do you need an engagement party?"

"It's important to keep up appearances, Hank." Conner reminded him, calmly picking a piece of lint off his immaculately kept dress pants.

"Appearances be damned. This party is all for _her_ and you know it." Hank replied with a scoff. "You'd think she was the one getting hitched."

The smile on Conner's face faded quickly. He was well aware of what tonight was for, a chance to get the Stern name back into the spotlight. He just wished it wasn't focused in on him. Sensing the drop in the mood, Hank glanced at his charge through the rearview mirror. The poor boy was gazing out the window like he was in a 90s love ballad. He could see the gears in his baby-faced brain turning, producing scenario after scenario of how everything could go wrong. "Hey," he called, and Conner blinked, coming out of his head. "It's going to be fine, Con. You'll see."

The smile was back. "Thanks, Hank."

"Don't mention it, kid." Hank replied with a smile of his own, but it was dropped for a stern expression. "It at anytime you feel like you need a break, you get the fuck out of there. I don't care if she doesn't approve. Your mental health is more important than any _image_ she's trying to maintain. Got it?"

"Got it."

The Rolls Royce rolled to a gently stop outside the entrance to the _Chateau de la Reine_. An eager young valet swiftly opened his door and Conner stepped out smoothly. His expression shifted into friendly neutral and he entered the building, the definition of grace and poise. Hank fall into step behind his right shoulder, hardened gaze scanning the area around them with trained efficiency. They barely got through the door when a middle-aged woman in a black business suit and high heels ambushed them.

"Hello, Welcome to the _Chateau de la Reine_. If you would follow me, please." It was right down to business as they followed her through the front lobby. Conner's shinned dress shoes clicked quietly on the polished, white marble floors and he tried not to grimace at the interior design of the hotel. It was like Louis the fourteenth threw up with all the royal red carpets and gold moldings. The Palace of Versailles called, they want their furniture back.

"The party is on the tenth floor, ballroom ten fifty-seven." The hostess informed them with a sickly-sweet voice and wide, fake smile.

"Thank you," Conner replied bowing his head slightly to the woman.

The woman's smile warmed a little. "Enjoy your stay here at the _Chateau de la Reine_." She turned on her heel and left them to board an ornate elevator.

"They do realize that the French Revolution was in the late 1700s, right?" Hank commented, fiddling with the clear earpiece in his ear. His grey hair was pulled into a small pony-tail at the back of his head. Conner recalled Amanda's reaction to the man he had hired as his personal bodyguard. She had looked him up and down with that laser gaze and said she wasn't too impressed with the scraggly hair that hung in the man's face, saying it could be a 'a potential hazard to his ability to see anything past the grey, unwashed curtain in his eyes'. When he left, Amanda had full expected him to come back clean cut. Instead, he had come back supporting a ridiculous man bun, that it took all of Conner's will power not to crack a smile in her line of sight at the clear defiance from an employee. He had taken a liking to the quick-witted, grumpy man.

"1789-1799." Conner replied to his comment easily.

"Exactly what I said." The elevator pinged as the doors slid open. The inside, unfortunately, matched the lobby. "Jesus, I feel like I should be wearing a powdered wig or something."

"I think you would look dashing in a powdered wig, Lieutenant."

"Shut up," Hank huffed as Conner let out a soft chuckle.

It wasn't long before they were dropped off at the tenth floor. The need to search for ballroom ten fifty-seven was lost as they were spotted by an elegantly dressed individual waiting at the elevator. Looking at him was almost like looking into a mirror for Conner, except for the slight height difference and the icy blue eyes. "Hello, Conan."

"You're late," was his greeting. "You were expected ten minutes ago."

Conner's brow furrowed. "I was told to arrive at seven o'clock. It's six fifty-nine."

"Mother expected you to be early."

"If Mother expected me to be early, then she should have told me to be early." Conner replied coolly.

Conan's eyes only narrowed at his retort before his spun sharply and marched down the hallway, not bothering to check and see if they were following him. Conner heaved another quite sigh before continuing after his brother. This was already turning out to be a long, frustrating night.

Conan didn't lead them directly to the ballroom but to a room across from it where his mother, fiancée and her family were all waiting for him.

"There you are! We were worried you were stuck in traffic or something." Chloe, his stunningly beautiful and sweet fiancée, exclaimed and came to greet him with a chaste kiss on his cheek. Even with her six-inch silver heels, she had to stand on her tip-toes to reach him. Her royal blue evening gown hugged every curve and flared out just at her thighs. Blue lace roses decorated the half sleeves and bodice of the dress and drew attention to the creamy skin of her chest and slender neck. Blond hair was tied into an elegant knot at the base of her skull as small curls were left to frame her face. The only jewelry she wore were diamond roses clipped to the soft lobs of her ears. Light eyeshadow and mascara brought out her steel blue eyes as red lipstick enhanced her lovely smile. She was a vision in every sense of the word and he felt very plain next to her.

He was suddenly very aware of the stray curl that refused to rest anywhere other than his forehead. It seemed that all the looks went to Conan as he could draw heads with his imposing figure and steely gaze. His white suit with black dress shirt and accents seemed so much more appealing than his plain black tux and tie.

"Or something indeed." Conner's attention shifted to the woman Conan had moved to stand beside and he made sure to school his expression.

Amanda Stern was everything her last name defined, stern. She was cold and calculating in both appearance and presence. Her beauty was in reference to snow and frost, smile cut to shape and dark ice glittering with black ice. It was appropriate that her dress of choice tonight was a white A-line with full sleeves. A necklace of square white crystals hung around her neck as triangle earrings dangled from her ears. Braided hair was pulled up in its usual twist.

"Well, he's here now and we can get started." Lorene, Chloe's mother, clapped her petite hands together.

Same height as her daughter, Lorene Kamski wore a lavender dress that seemed just a bit too small for her. Bleach blond hair cascaded down her back and over her bare shoulders. She was bejeweled with diamonds around her neck, in her hair, hanging from her ears, jiggling on her thin wrists, and around her slender fingers. She wobbled in her too-high heels. Her husband, Noah, was unassuming next to her. Hair thinning and belly straining against the buttons of his suit jacket.

The one carrying out the Kamski name was Chloe's older brother, Elijah. He was the true mastermind behind Cyberlife, Kamski's Fortune 500 company. The man was head of the R and D department. He was the spearhead of artificial intelligence, claiming to have a plan to bring walking, talking androids into the real world in the next decade. He was dressed similarly to Conner with hair up in his signature manbun, showing off the buzz cut underneath. His eyes always held a spark in them and, when paired with a smirk, spelled out mischief.

"We'll head inside first and the announce you to the guest. Do you remember your que?" Lorene asked.

"Yes, Mom." Chloe admonished with a giggle. "We'll be right behind you."

The Kamskis lead the heard, followed by Conan, though he gave Elijah a wide birth. Sharp, manicured nails grabbed Conner's arm tightly and tugged him down. "Make me proud," Amanda hissed into his ear before placing a soft kiss right on his cheekbone.

Conner's expression never changed though he felt a chill run down his spine. He didn't react. He could feel Hank's eyes on the back of his head as he straightened and watched Amanda walk out without glancing back. He drew in a deep breath. "Nervous?" Chloe asked with a smile.

"No. You?"

She nodded. "Very, these parties always make my insides fell like noodles. I always feel like I'm going to do something silly in front of everyone." She confessed. They had that in common it seemed.

"Yes. That sounds about right." He took another deep breath and plastered on a smile that was as jovial as he could manage. "Ready?"

Her delicate hand slipped into his arm. "As I'll ever be."

Conner stole a glance back at Hank, who gave him a knowing look. He had a feeling they were going to be having a talk about his 'feelings' after tonight and he hid a grimace. He really wished tonight was over already.

They heard their que and strode into the ballroom to polite applause. Nodding to guests as they passed, they both reached their designated spot. Conner resigned himself to not leaving this spot for the rest of the night. He chatted and smiled with each and every guest that came to give them congratulations on their impending engagement and then somehow steer the conversation to themselves. Despite her earlier words, Chloe was the perfect hostess, keeping that lovely grin on her face with each person and giving them her undivided attention. That was why she was so popular with the inner circles. She had this uncanny ability to make you feel like the most important person in the world and the higher-ups loved all the ego stroking. She deserved someone who could love and cherish her like she deserved, and she was stuck with him.

He knew Amanda was watching him like a hawk even as she exchanged pleasantries with the Mayor and his too young wife. Sweat was beginning to form under his collar and his hands were starting to get that all too familiar shake. The accompanying static of an oncoming anxiety attack was growing louder in his ears. Remembering his promise to Hank, he politely excused himself from the current conversation, placed another peck to Chloe's rosy cheek, and tried not to flee as he made eye contact with Hank. He made a beeline for the balcony with his diligent bodyguard hot on his heels.

The air was much cooler out here and it was easier to pull into lungs that wanted to rebel. He began taking deep slow breaths, letting his body calm down from fight-or-flight mode. "Hey," a warm hand slid onto his shoulder as Hank caught up with him. He had angled his body to block out the sight of the party inside and Conner was grateful for the chance to trick his body into believe it was just him and Hank. It helped him to relax. "Are you ok?" Hank asked concerned.

Conner nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed to get out of there."

"You know what caused it?" Ever the detective.

"Yeah, I got it under control now."

"You sure?" Conner nodded again. "Okay. Thanks for listening to me kid. I'll give you a minute. I'll be just inside the doors."

Conner thanked him as Hank patted his back and headed back inside, giving him a moment to compose himself. He took another cleansing breath.

"It's a lot, isn't it?"

Conner's head snapped to his left were the surprise voice spoke. His first instinct was to be embarrassed seeing as this new person had just witnessed him almost loose it. It was quickly replaced by anger as said person should have made themselves known. Both of those feelings vanished as he got a good look at this person and _holy shit,_ he was hot! The man was leaning casually against the railing of the balcony, an unlit cigarette rolling between his fingers. He wore the typical tux with what used to be a tie hanging limp from his unbuttoned collar. It drew Connor's eyes to his strong neck and jaw. Stubble gave him a ruggedly handsome look and flowed seamlessly into his buzzed hair. Conner felt his breath rush out of him as a disarming gaze as blue and green met brown. Heterochromia iridium was rare but my, was it stunning.

"I beg your pardon?" He was quite proud that his voice didn't break.

Markus had not expected this. When Carl told him that they had to attend an engagement party for an old friend's sister, he knew it was going to be dull and boy was he right. The entire thing screamed filthy-stinking rich. From the location, the Chateau de la Reine was Detroit's most luxurious and obnoxiously themed hotel, to the food -who the hell had caviar at an engagement party- it was so far from his taste that he had wrinkled his nose just looking at the invites. He had stayed with Carl for as long as he could handle before making a quick getaway to the unoccupied balcony. He had sighed and ran a hand over the short hairs on his head. A hand automatically reached into his jacket pocket for a cigarette. He had quite a couple years ago but the urge still snuck up on him during stressful situations. He found that holding one in his hand while giving his ever-twitchy fingers something to do kept him from actually lighting up.

He had barely been out here for five minutes when another figure came barreling through the doors. Markus immediately recognized the signs for an oncoming anxiety attack and was prepared to step in when another figure joined him. The older gentleman cut off his view of the other, but he couldn't help but overhear their conversation.

"Hey, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. I just needed to get out of there."

"You know what caused it?" It seemed that these anxiety attacks were pretty common.

"Yeah, I got it under control now."

"You sure?" The first gave him some sort of silent answer. "Okay, Thanks for listening to me kid. I'll give you a minute. I'll be just inside the doors."

The man turned back inside, and Markus noticed an ear piece, a bodyguard perhaps. He got a good side view of the figure and noticed a few things immediately. The man was tall and thin, but not gangly. His suit seemed to fit him well-tailored- and his posture was perfect even when assuming he was alone. Definitely upper class then. His dark hair was slicked back, and Markus watched as he took a deep breath. He couldn't help himself. "It's a lot, isn't it?"

The man's head snapped toward him and Markus blinked. This man was gorgeous. He had light skin and dark eyes that matched his hair. High cheek bones and a narrow jaw gave him a boyish face and a cleft chin added character. Even though his face was composed, Markus watched emotions flash rapidly though his eyes and he found himself mesmerized. He really wished he had his sketch pad right now.

"I beg your pardon?"

It took Markus a moment to remember what he said. "The party? All the smoozing and ass-kissing? It's a lot, isn't it?"

"Oh," the man sent the open doors a quick glance. "I suppose it is. What made you think…"

"You looked like you were about to panic." Markus said casually and the man subtly stiffened.

Conner felt a twinge of irritation. He was _not_ panicking. "I don't panic." He stated firmly. The man smirked, and the irritation increased.

"That's not what it seemed like to me."

The nerve. "You don't even know me."

This guy was kind of cute when he was annoyed. Markus shrugged. "I suppose that's true, but that's an easy fix." The cigarette slipped back into his pocket and he extended a hand to the man. "Markus Manfred."

The man raised a thin eyebrow and Markus' heart stuttered a little. Before things could get too awkward, a warm, thin hand grasped his. "Conner Stern."

Conner tried to ignore how calloused and warm Markus' hand was. He also ignored the feeling he got when his eyebrow raise was mimicked with a dashing smirk. "Well, well, man of the hour. What are you doing out here instead of in there with your fancy guests and lovely bride-to-be?"

Conner's brow furrowed. "I don't see how that's any concern of yours."

"Of course, it is, we're friends now," Markus teased. He was graced with an affronted look at that.

"We are not friends."

"We shook hands on it and introduced ourselves."

"That is not how you make friends."

"Why not?"

Conner rolled his eyes with a rude smile. "You can't just make friends with someone just by shaking their hand and introducing yourself."

It seemed that Markus had a conformist on his hands. "Why not?" he asked genuinely curious.

"It…It just doesn't. There's a lot more involved in being friends."

Markus tilted his head and it was _not_ cute. "Like?"

"Like…I don't know, knowing things about each other that no one else does." This was a stupid conversation. "You can't just make friends with someone with a smile and a handshake."

Markus gave him a small smile. "Maybe it should be."

Conner blinked. He wasn't expecting that. "If that was the case, everyone in that room would be my friend." There was no mistaking the disgust hidden in his voice.

Markus raised another eyebrow at him. "Aren't they?"

That was slightly offensive. "Hell no," Conner said quickly, and Markus chuckled quietly, "though I'm sure they'd like to be."

"I couldn't imagine why they wouldn't want to be. You're so charming."

Conner couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic or not. "Are you making fun of me?"

The glare was cute, like a mad little kitten. "Of course not, I'm telling the honest to God truth." Markus swore. "You're charming, handsome. Who wouldn't want to be your friend?"

Conner gave a self-deprecating scoff. "You'd be surprised."

"I want to be your friend." Conner gave him such a glorious 'bitch, please' look that Markus struggled not to laugh. "I'm serious." The face didn't change. "Fine, here. You said friends know things about each other."

Markus straightened like he was getting ready to lecture someone on the imagery hidden in one of Davinci's works. "I'm Markus Manfred. I like to paint and play piano when I'm stressed. I like to wear baggy clothes and eat junk food and hang out with my friends. I hate these parties and would rather be at a bar on a Saturday night, getting drunk and singing bad karaoke." Conner chuckled at that and Markus grinned. "There, see? Your turn."

Conner shook his head in exasperated amusement. This was like an elementary introduction and was completely and utterly stupid and he couldn't believe he was doing this. "My name is Conner Stern. I like dogs and oversized hoodies. I like to take walks and read books. And I hate these parties because everything is fake and everyone's just playing pretend. I wish I…" Conner trailed off noticing what he was about to say and the shift in mood. He took a step back and lowered his head. "Sorry."

"It's alright." Markus assured him with an understanding smile. "It seems like you need to get something off your chest." The offer was open. He could tell that there was something dark and hidden behind those innocent eyes.

Conner hesitantly shook his head. "I shouldn't…I've spoken too much already."

"That's what friends are for. Someone to rant to without feeling judged." I won't judge you, was the unspoken message and Conner seemed to grasp it as he stared almost desperately at Markus. The 'help me' was almost just as clear. Conner opened his mouth when a new voice interrupted.

"Conner." They both turned to see Conan standing in the balcony doorway. His eyes flickered between them before settling on Conner. "Chloe's looking for you."

Right, his fiancée. "I'll be there in a moment." He promised. Conan nodded and retreated to the party. Conner turned back to Markus. "I need to head back. It was a pleasure to meet you Markus." The ingrained politeness was back but he was a little surprise that he meant it.

"The pleasure was all mine, Conner. We should hang out some time." Markus grinned playfully at him. "We're friends now after all."


	2. Chapter 2

_Jericho Anonymous_ was unlike every other art gallery he had ever been to. Where most of them had plain white walls, _Jericho's_ walls were painted with warm, earthy tones that some how accented the paintings on display. The lighting was bright and playful. _True Colors_ played quietly over the speakers pulling a chuckle from him at the word play. It was so much better than classical. _Jericho Anonymous_ was unconventional and unorthodox and utterly extraordinary. Conner loved it.

"Look at this one," Conner moved away from the abstract painting he had been admiring to join Chloe at the next one. The painting was a well-worn face in warm shades of yellow, honey, and sunshine. It was a familiar face.

"That's Carl Manfred, a famous painter native to Detroit. He's most known for his abstract and modernistic pieces. This seems to be a self-portrait."

"There's a lot of detail in this." She leaned in close. "Either he was trying to be as accurate as possible or he was really full of himself."

"Well, he would say it was the later, but he was never fond of painting self-portraits." The couple turned toward the new voice that just joined their conversation and Conner's heart sped up at the interruption.

"Markus," he greeted with a small smile.

It was easily returned. "It's wonderful to see you again, Conner."

Markus looked a lot more relax than he had the first time and Conner suspected that was due to the fact that he wore a soft grey cotton shirt with long sleeves pushed up to his elbows and worn light-wash jeans. The top two buttons of his shirt were open enough to expose the tips of his clavicles which Conner did his best to ignore. It took Conner's brain longer than it should have for him to remember his manners.

"Uh, Chloe, this is Markus Manfred. We met at the engagement party. Markus, this is Chloe Kamski, my…fiancée." He was proud he only froze slightly on the word for a millisecond. The two new acquaintances shook hands.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Kamski. No relation to the Cyberlife Kamskis?"

Chloe smiled pleasantly. "Father and brother actually."

"You must have some interesting dinner conversations."

"If you consider the nature of artificial intelligence an interesting topic of conversation, then yes." She said with a bit of a giggle.

"I find it very interesting, but, unfortunately, I am merely a lowly painter and could not possibly understand the complexities of such topics." Markus teased, and Chloe laughed.

"It's alright, neither does my father. Elijah and I like to discuss it just to see the bemused expression on his face. It's quite funny." Chloe admitted. "Now, you said your last name was Manfred. Any relation to the famous painter?" She gestured to the portrait.

"Father actually," He replied mimicking Chloe's earlier phrase. "This was one of the first paintings I ever attempted."

Realization struck Conner like an incoming freight train. "Wait, Markus Manfred?" Said man just raised an eyebrow at him with an amused smirk. "Painter of the Humanity Series?" Conner was starting to get excited, bouncing slightly on his toes.

"That would be me."

Conner's whole face lit up like a Christmas tree. "Wow! It's an honor, truly!" He exclaimed, ignoring the way both Chloe and Markus were laughing at his enthusiasm. "You were named the greatest rising artist of our time!" He ran a hand through his hair. "I can't believe I never made the connection before now. That's not usually like me."

"I'm sure you had other things on your mind." Markus commented with a knowing look.

"Conner's a bit of a fanboy." Chloe said patting him on the arm with a teasing smile and he blushed. "He's got your pieces adorning his bedroom."

The eyebrow rose again and Conner's flush deepened. "Just a few."

"Which ones?" Markus asked genuinely curious.

"Some of the Humanity Series pieces. Sadness, pain, despair… oh, and prisoner."

Markus' brow furrowed. He was sensing a troubling pattern here. A sharp ring interrupted them, and Chloe cursed quietly. "Shoot, sorry," she dug through her purse, looking of the offending object. "It's my mom. I'll be right back. Keep looking, sweetie." She leaned up and placed a quick kiss on Conner's cheek before rushing out the door to answer the nagging cell phone.

"She seems like a pleasant individual." Markus commented casually.

"Yes, she is." Conner replied, but something in his voice was hesitant and Markus thought back to the paintings.

He crossed his arms over his chest and shifted his weight to his right foot. "So, any particular reason why you chose those paintings?"

Conner shrugged. "They just spoke to me, I guess. The way you were able to capture the emotion behind each image is just so profound! I could never do anything like that."

"I'm sure you have your own talents, Conner."

The brunet just shook his head but kept his smile. "Are all of these paintings yours?"

"No," Markus replied as they began to casually make their way to the next painting. "A few of them are, but most of them are done by local artists. Many of them don't have the opportunity to get their works recognized by the professional world and the studio gives them that chance. We get some serious buyers here."

"Was that your plan for the studio to begin with? An open door for the struggling artist?"

"As a matter a fact, yes. I was lucky enough to have Carl when I started, and I wanted to give that same opportunity to others. Everyone needs a little help ever now and then."

"Do you scout them out or do they come to you?"

"A bit of both. When the studio first started, I had to go out and find some promising prospects, but as the reputation of the studio increased, they started coming to me. Though, I do enjoy scouting every so often." He turned a grin on Conner. "You know, you should help me scout sometime. You obviously know a masterpiece when you see one."

Conner chuckled. "If I happen to run into a promising street artist, I'll be sure to send them your way."

A pleasant silence past between them as they took in the next painting together. The distance between them had all but disappeared during their move and Conner could feel the brush of Markus' arm against his as he breathed. "Hey," Conner turned to look at him. "My friends and I are getting together later this evening for a few drinks. You should come with us."

"Oh, I don't know about that."

"Why not?"

Conner glanced toward the door. "I just…Chloe might need me to help with some of the wedding planning and I just don't want let leave her to do that by herself."

Markus shifted to face him. "I'm sure she has plenty of help with that. It's just a few drinks with some friends. It's not like we're kidnapping you."

 _I almost wish you would,_ Conner thought silently to himself. It would certainly get him out of the wedding completely. "But, Chloe…"

"What about me?" asked said girl with a curious glance between the two men.

"I was trying to convince Conner here to join my friends and I for a drink, but he's worried you might need him tonight." Markus relayed.

"Of course not," Chloe turned to her fiancé. "You should go. It'll get you out of the house and with people for a change."

Conner crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at her. "Are you calling me a shut-in?"

"Yes," Chloe deadpanned, and Markus snorted. Conner glared at him. "You need friends and I don't mean Hank and Sumo."

"Hey, they happen to be great friends."

"Yes, they also happen to be a middle-aged ex-police lieutenant and his dog. You need to meet people your own age." She shoved him toward Markus as her betrothed sputtered. She addressed Markus, who looked like he was trying to hide his amused grin. "Take him and do not bring him back until he has had proper social interaction."

"Yes ma'am." Markus wrapped an arm around Conner's shoulders and stirred him to the doors. "Come on, you hermit. Let's go make some new friends."

"We are not friends." Conner huffed playfully.

"Of course, we are, we shook on it."

Conner had to resist the urge to stick his tongue out at Markus as that would be childish and completely undignified.

BREAKLINE

The beat from the club thrummed through Conner's bones as he gazed around the room. There were bodies at nearly every table in the place as well as filling the dance floor, looking like a swaying sea of skimpy clothes and sweat. There was _a lot_ of people here. Markus had a hand pressed between his shoulder blades and Conner focused on its warmth instead of the heat from the bodies around them. "Come on, the Jericrew are already here." Markus stated loudly in his ear as Conner was pushed forward.

He looked puzzled at Markus. "Jericrew?" Conner nearly had to shout over the noise.

"That's what we call ourselves. My friends helped me establish _Jericho Anonymous_. The name is something from our childhood." Markus paused in his explanation as they arrive at a round table with three individuals already seated. There were two males and one female, all dressed for a night out on the town with dark colors and tight clothing. Markus looked fantastic in just his day clothes, but Conner felt a little weird in his white button up and suit jacket and slacks.

"Hey, guys. This is Conner." Markus introduced pulling him closer. He resisted only a little. "From right to left we have Simon, Josh, and North." They each nodded to him in greeting.

Simon smiled pleasantly at him, blond hair glowing under the strobing lights of the club. He had on a dark t-shirt and jeans with a jacket slung over the back of his chair. "Welcome, Conner."

"He looks like a rich boy." It was North that spoke as she leaned back in her chair, sizing him up. Conner knew an alpha female when he saw one and she was practically oozing contempt. A rope of hair hung over the bare shoulder left exposed by the cut of her shirt. She had a face of such beauty that men would kill to look at, but her expression was that of a woman aware of her beauty and not afraid to use it to her advantage.

"North," Markus admonished as he took a seat beside her, leaving the one between him and Simon free. "Be nice."

North didn't even glance at him. "What? I am being nice," she said innocently. "I just want to see what rich boy is made of." A shot glass filled with an amber liquid was pushed towards him. Some of the contents sloshed over the side before settling in front of him. He gazed at it for a moment before returning his gaze back to his challenger. She just smirked, daring him. The others were quiet, waiting to see what he would do.

Without breaking eye contact, Conner picked up the tiny glass and threw it back. It burned as it went down, but he didn't react. It was a familiar burn. One that reminded him of long nights with Hank on his couch or sitting at Jimmy's Bar.

The shot glass was placed upside down on the table and Conner raised an eyebrow as if to say, 'that all you got?'. The side of North's mouth twitched, mildly impressed. "Rye whiskey. Journeyman, most likely. Not bad." He commented finally sitting in his chair.

It was North's turn to raise an eyebrow. "How did you know?"

"The taste, like a spicy bourbon."

"You can tell the brand of the bourbon just by tasting it?" Josh asked skeptically, arms resting on the table.

"Most of the time. Drinks with similar ingredients are difficult, but yes. I can."

"Alright smart ass," North plucked Markus' glass out of his hand, ignoring his indignant 'hey', and handed it to Conner. "What's Markus drinking?"

Conner glanced at the artist. Markus gave him an exasperated wave to 'go for it' and he took a small sip. "Macallan Scotch. Neat." Their fingers brushed when he handed it back.

"Impressive," Markus said smiling.

"Oh, me next!" Simon said excitedly, and Conner couldn't help but chuckle as he sipped.

"Vodka tonic."

Simon took his drink back. "That's really cool."

"Sure, it is, but how about a real test?" North challenged as she stood up.

"North, no." Markus said before cursing as she marched to the bar. She came back quickly carrying a tray of shot glasses, each filled with a different drink. "For each one you get right, Markus will give you a kiss."

The man next to her choked on his drink as Conner flushed a deep red. "North! He's engaged!"

"So? I don't hear him protesting." Conner took note the Markus protested about him being engaged and not about kissing another guy. Interesting.

"No North."

North sighed dramatically. "Fine, you killjoy. We'll figure out the reward later. Have at it."

Conner shook his head good-humoredly as his blush faded. He had a feeling that this group of friends was going to get him into a lot of trouble. It was kind of exciting. He dove right in to the first shot, giving each one as much dedication as one of his cases at work.

 _He's kind of cute when he's focused_ , Markus thought before subtly shaking the thought away. Conner was engaged, and he shouldn't be thinking about him like that. He was in almost awe as Conner named each drink correctly. "You've got a talented tongue there, Conner." And North was determined to make him think about kissing him. His friends were the worst.

"Thanks," Conner replied hesitantly not sure if that was meant to be an innuendo. He was only slightly buzzed from the shots. Hank had trained him well.

The conversation drifted from topic to topic freely. He discovered the North was crass and spoke her mind without regard of what other's thought of her. Josh was her polar opposite, calm and polite and always arguing with her on nearly everything. The current subject of debate was movies.

"I hate that movie!" North stated passionately before gulping down another bourbon.

Simon looked affronted at her declaration and jumped to defend the film. "How could you say that?! The Princess Bride is a classic!"

"I don't care. It's just another stupid romance movie that depicts the female as helpless and needing a man to save her. It's insulting. She could have easily gotten away from those two idiots if she had just gotten a little creative with her fists."

"One of them was a giant!"

"So? Any man will go down if you just hit them in the right spot. Right Conner?" She asked with a vicious grin.

Conner shrugged apologetically at the blond. "She's got a point."

Simon looked so utterly betrayed that Conner couldn't hold back a smile. "Why Conner? You're supposed to be on my side."

"Besides," North continued, "the whole arranged marriage thing is a joke. People should have the right to marry whomever they want."

A heavy rock dropped into Conner's stomach and he looked down at the scotch swirling around in his glass. His grip on it tightened.

"That practice went out of style ages ago." Josh commented.

Conner scoffed. "I wish."

They turned to look at him. Josh's eyes narrowed. "Of course, it did. The practice was used mostly for things like financial gain and social standing."

"Or keeping their families in a position of power." Conner muttered.

North gestured in Conner's direction. "Yeah, see, shit like that's stupid. Who in their right mind would agree to something like that?"

"Me."

The group froze, staring at him like he had just said the obscenest thing they had ever heard. Self-conscious and bitter, Conner avoided looking at any of them and curled in on himself slightly. "It wasn't much of a choice really. It was more of a 'you're required to do this'." He should really stop talking now. "Just forget I said anything," and he downed the rest of his scotch.

A hand landed on his arm, trying to comfort him. "Conner, I had no idea…" Markus started before North cut him off.

"Why didn't you just say no?"

Conner laughed humorlessly. "If only it was that easy."

"Of course, it is."

"You've never met my mother."

North opened her mouth to continue but Markus leveled her with a look that had her shutting it with a click.

The atmosphere was suddenly heavy, and Conner could feel the beginnings of guilt building in his chest. "I shouldn't have said anything. Sorry for bringing down the mood guys."

"Don't be," Simon insisted. "You obviously needed to tell someone and who better than your drinking buddies?" He spread his arms out to include everyone and they each gave him a supportive smile.

He couldn't resist returning it. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it, Buttercup." North said before clapping a hand on Josh's shoulder. "Come on, professor. I'm just drunk enough to dance, and you lost a bet."

Josh grumbled at the unfairness of said bet, but he stood anyway. "I need another drink." Simon said before heading toward the bar, leaving Markus and Conner alone at the table.

Conner kept his eyes on his now empty glass, trying to keep them from straying to the annoyingly hot guy currently burning a hole in the side of his head. "Conner, I'm sorry."

He let out a resigned sigh. "Life's not fair. I just have to live with that."

"You don't have to, you know."

"And I really don't want to talk about this." He said sharply, eyes snapping to meet green and blue. The fire in them quickly died at seeing the sympathy and understanding in his. "Sorry."

"It's alright. I'm here though, if you ever do want to talk." Conner held his gaze for a moment, searching for…something. He didn't know what. He nodded and turned to seek out Josh and North on the dance floor. Markus had shifted closer to him at some point during their conversation and he found that he didn't mind. There was a nudge at his elbow and he looked back.

"Give me your phone."

Confused, Conner tilted his head. "What?"

"Let me see your phone." Markus held out his hand.

Still not quite understanding what Markus wanted, Conner reached into back pocket and pulled out his phone. Markus took it and began to type before handing it back. "There, now if you ever want to talk, you've got my number."

The digits quickly imprinted themselves on Conner's brain. He smiled at Markus. "Thanks, but you might come to regret it."

Markus shook his head, grinning. "No, I don't think I will."

Markus was certainly a strange individual. This night wasn't turning out anything like he had planned, but, hey, at least he got a hot guy's number out of it.


	3. Chapter 3

Why, oh why did he think it was a good idea to drink? Conner groaned as his head throbbed. His mouth was dry and stuffed with cotton balls soaked in essence of skunk. Hangovers sucked. He gracelessly flopped on his side and smashed his face into his pillow. His glorious, stupendous, fluffy, wonderful pillow that was always supportive and there for him whenever he needed something to lay on. His bed too. A shrill pierced the air and sent a white-hot ice pick through his brain. Whimpering and trying to ignore the pathetic tears that gathered in the corner of his eyes, Conner threw an arm out, hand groping the nightstand for his phone. Stupid alarm. His fingers finally found it and the shrieking was silenced. Sighing with relief, he rolled onto his back with his arm resting over his eyes. He didn't think he drank that much last night. He only had his usual scotch. Twice…and some of Markus'…and all those shots from North's game. Maybe he had more than he thought, and he didn't even get his reward.

The alarm went off a second time. Goddamn it, he thought he had turned that shit off. "Alright, shut the fuck up." Conner growled grabbing the device and stabbing the screen with more force than necessary. He's been spending too much time with Hank. Blessed silence. He just noticed the full glass of water on his night stand that his drunk self forgot to drink last night, along with a bottle of Advil. God bless his drunk self and he popped a couple pills and chugged the water.

He laid back against his wonderful pillow, trying to find the will to get up for the day. He was so glad it was the weekend. He could go as slow as he wanted and not worry about being late. He was the CFO, he should be able to arrive when he damn well pleased. He really needs to stop hanging out with Hank so much. His potty mouth was getting worse. It took a lot more strength to shower, shave and dress than it should have, but he felt more rejuvenated. After brushing his teeth, twice, he deemed himself ready to take on the day. He opened his bedroom door and nearly jumped out of his skin at Conan standing in the doorway.

"Jesus Christ, Conan! You nearly gave me a heart attack." Conner accused hand clutching at his chest.

"Where were you last night?" Conan questioned.

Conner's brow furrowed at the reproachful tone in his brother's voice. "Why do you need to know?"

"Where you out drinking with Anderson?"

"What I do and who I do it with is none of your concern." He didn't have the patience to deal with Conan's holier-than-thou attitude today. He brushed past him and into the hallway, closing the door as best he could around a six-foot two road block.

"It is when you chose to fraternize with the hired help. It looks bad on the rest of us." Conner could practically hear Conan's nose scrapping the ceiling. He whirled around and leveled Conan with a glare that made him pause in his tracks.

"Hank is more than an employee, he's my friend, and what I chose to do in my free time is my business. I've not done a single thing that could shame the family in any way. I don't need you sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You're not my keeper Conan." He hissed before marching off.

Conan watched, a little shocked at his outburst. Conner was wrong about one thing; he _was_ his brother's keeper. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out his phone and hit speed dial. "Hey, it's me. I've got a job for you."

BREAKLINE

The headache was practically gone by the time the taxi dropped him off at Hank's house. Hank's old, black Buick was parked haphazardly in the driveway and Conner rolled his eyes. He was still wondering what possessed him to let this man drive him anywhere. The single-story building was unassuming with cream siding, decorative clay bricks, and a plain brown front door. He smiled. He could remember one summer during high school when Hank and he repainted the faded and peeling siding, replaced the rotting front door, and power washed the windows. They spent quite a bit of time during those years cleaning up this old house, so much so that it felt more like home to Conner than the manor.

Turning the key in the lock, the front door opened smoothly, and Conner was greeted by a mountain of fur and a large, wet tongue. "Alright, Sumo, alright." Conner laughed pushing the Saint Bernard off him and giving him a good scratch behind the ears. "Good morning to you too."

He wrestled himself passed the massive dog into the house and was mildly impress. It was a lot cleaner than the last time he was here, minus a couple of empty beer bottles on the coffee table. "You hungry boy?" Moving into the kitchen, Conner retrieve the kibble from the cabinet and poured some into Sumo's food bowl and gave him fresh water. Sumo munched happily while Conner busied himself with the dirty dishes in the sink, giving them a good scrub and placing them in the dishwasher. An empty pizza box was tossed in the trash along with the beer bottles and the bag set by the front door to go out. He glanced in the fridge and nodded in satisfaction at the variety of foods on the selves. He wouldn't need to go for groceries today then. A soft head nudged his leg and Conner glanced down with a chuckle. Sumo sat there with wide, hopeful eyes, leash firmly clamped in his jaws. "Ready for a walk then?" Conner asked as he grabbed the leash and clipped it to Sumo's blue collar. "Looks like Hank will be sleeping for a little while longer. It's just you and me then."

Grabbing the trash, Conner closed and locked the front door behind them. Sumo did his business quickly and waited patiently for Conner to place the trash in the garbage can. The dog tugged eagerly on the leash, drawing a laugh out of the human. "I'm coming. I'm coming." They took off at a brisk pace, heading toward Riverside Park. It was their favorite walk destination; Sumo for all the squirrels and Conner for the calming view. Hank had introduced it to him just after they had met, and it held a lot of bitter sweet memories for the both of them. Conner found himself there more times than he could count, just to think or to get away from the pressures of high society. The park wasn't usually crowded as many preferred the larger parks, but he was a little surprised the see it was packed.

Since when has Riverside Park hosted festivals? He starred in amazement as rows of portable tents and inflatable bouncy houses lining the trail ways and grass. Children chased each other and dragged amused parents to different attractions. Laughter and music floated on the air accompanied by the delicious aroma of carnival food. Conner glanced down at his companion. "What do you think Sumo, should we check out the festival?"

The Saint Bernard gave him a simple huff and wagged his tail twice in agreement. Conner nodded, "very well then," and they started down the trail toward the center of the activity. Venders of every kind surround them on both sides. People selling trinkets. Handmade jewelry and cosmetics attracted many of the older patrons while tents containing games like ring toss and balloon pop beckoned the younger crowd. There was even a little swimming pool filled with yellow rubber ducks for the little ones.

They were stopped a few times as a couple of people wanted to pet Sumo and the gentle giant basked in the simple affection of the pats. A familiar voice called his name and Conner turned to see his secretary, Kara, with her Husband, Luther, and their nine-year-old daughter, Alice. "Hello Kara, Luther, Alice. It's a pleasure to see you all." Conner greeted politely.

"Hello Conner," Kara said with a smile as Alice waved with an enthusiastic 'hi'. "I didn't expect to see you here."

Conner shrugged. "I didn't really expect to be here. This is were we usually come on our walks and we were a little surprised to see a festival."

Alice's eyes lit up as she gazed at Sumo. "Sumo!" She ran forward eagerly and showered him with affection. Sumo preened.

"Alice wanted to come and try the bouncy houses." Kara explained watching Alice giggle with a smile.

"Was it worth it?" Conner asked the girl and she nodded.

"Oh yes. You should try it, Conner. It's super fun!"

The adults laughed softly at her wonder. "I think I might be a bit big for the bouncy houses, but I'll certainly take your word for it." Conner replied before turning back to her parents. "How are you, Luther? Zlatko treating you well?"

Luther's smile strained. "He's much better, though he's still hard to work with. There's not much more I can do other than what I have been doing."

"He's paid the overtime he owes you, yes?" Conner asked eyebrows pinched.

Luther nodded as the tension bled out of his shoulders. "Yes, after the last incident, he wouldn't dare to weasel his way out of paying again, not with the lawyer breathing down his neck. Thank you for that, by the way," the large man said smile warming his face, "I wasn't the only one he was skimping out on. That lawyer really helped to figure out there was a lot of more missing paychecks than we thought, so thank you."

"I'm just happy to help." Conner eyes grew serious. "You'll let me know if something like that happens again."

Luther nodded. "Of course, people deserve to be paid what their worth."

Conner's smile returned. "Good, well, it was wonderful to see you all and I'll see you back at the office, Kara. Enjoy the rest of your day."

"You too, Conner. Have fun." Kara said.

"Bye, Conner!" Alice shouted as they walked away, and Conner waved happily after her, chuckling. He was happy to know that everything had been worked out for Luther and his co-workers. His smile faded as he thought about the Zlatko situation. He would need to keep a closer eye of the man, making sure he paid his employees properly. Honest men like Luther didn't deserved to be treated so poorly. It maybe time to let Zlatko go, getting a more reliable worker in a leadership position. Perhaps it was time to promote Luther, he had defiantly proved himself worthy with this whole fiasco. Conner could feel the smile spreading. It seemed he had something to do first thing tomorrow morning.

He glanced around the tents when sharp eyes recognized a familiar face moving around inside a royal purple tent. His smile returned as he approached the man seated in front of a worn, paint splattered easel, face pinched slightly in concentration. "Markus."

Said man's head turned towards him, eyes locking with that beautifully intense gaze. Recognition flooded them quickly and his eyes lit up. "Conner," the sharpie in his hands was capped and set aside as he stood to greet him.

"Working hard?" Conner asked fingers playing with Sumo's leash.

Markus shrugged. "It's not really work if you enjoy it."

"True," Conner moved into the tent, trying to see what was resting on Markus' easel. "What _are_ you working on?"

"Oh," Markus stepped aside to reveal a cartoon face. "Caricatures." The exaggerated eyes and nose made Conner chuckle.

"Magnificent," he teased," your best work by far, I think."

"Of course," Markus smirked. He held up the permanent marker. "Care to have your likeness immortalized in sharpie?"

Conner smiled warmly and shrugged again. "Why not?"

Markus gestured to the empty stool directly in front of the easel. As Conner moved to sit, Markus caught sight of the animal walking beside him. "And who is this handsome fella?" He asked as he readied a clean piece of paper.

"This is Sumo," Conner replied. "He belongs to Hank Anderson, my bodyguard."

Markus raised an eyebrow at that. "Do you normally walk your bodyguard's dog?"

"Oh, Hank's more than a bodyguard. He's a good friend of mine. He used to be a lieutenant for the Detroit Police Department before switching to close personal security. He had quite the reputation in the DPD, before I managed to steal him away."

"Really? He sounds like an interesting person." Markus commented as the pen in his hand glided over the page. "How did you two meet?"

"We became acquainted when I had just turned sixteen. In a fit of teenage rebellion, a couple of my peers and I decided to have an…impromptu party at one of the old abandoned freighters at the docks. We were quite inebriated and somehow caused the ship to sink. It caused quite a ruckus."

Markus paused and look at him over the top of the easel. "Wait, the _Jericho_ sinking? That was you?"

Conner was a little perplexed at the question. "Well, it wasn't technically me but someone I was associated with, yes."

"Oh man," Markus slouched back in his chair. "My friends and I used to hangout there during high school. That's how we got the nickname _Jericrew_. We came by one day and the whole area was cordoned off with a majority of the ship submerged. We always assumed the hull had finally ruptured."

"I suppose, in a way, it did." Conner rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "Sorry."

"It's alright. It must have been some party." Markus commented returning to his drawing. "So, what does the sinking of the mighty _Jericho_ have to do with you meeting Mr. Anderson?"

"He was the arresting officer. I rode in the back of his car to the station. He sat me down at his desk as he called my mother. Once he finished, he asked if I had anything I wanted to say. I told him to lock me up."

Markus raised another eyebrow at him. "Why?"

Conner chuckled. "He asked me the same thing in almost the exact same way. It was simple really. It would tarnish my mother's reputation. Who would've thought the great Amanda Stern would have a deliquiate son? It would've caused quite a scandal if it had gotten out. It didn't, of course. My mother has a way of sweeping dirt under the rug.

"Hank showed up a week later to be my bodyguard. He said he was getting bored sitting behind a desk all day, doing nothing but paper work. I say it was to keep me out of trouble."

"That is interesting, going from a police lieutenant to babysitting a sixteen-year-old." Markus teased.

"I suppose that is a bit of a step down," Conner laughed. "I like to think I keep him on his toes."

"It seems to me you're a bit of a rebel there, Mr. Stern."

Conner grinned at Markus' smirk. "You make me sound cooler than I am. That was a single incident."

"Oh, I don't know about that. You handled your liquor the other night like a seasoned veteran."

"That is Hank's fault. He's a pretty good drinking buddy and he's about as fascinated with my talent as you guys were. He likes to buy different kinds of alcohol to try whenever I'm with him."

"He sounds like an interesting character. I'd love to meet him someday."

"Of course, I feel he and North will get along swimmingly." Conner added with a mischievous grin.

Markus groaned. "Oh no, I'm not sure I could handle two Norths."

"It would certainly be amusing."

Shaking his head with an amused huff, Markus signed his name at the bottom with a flourish and capped the marker, lifting the finished product. Conner let out a surprised laugh. His features were nowhere near proportional with too big eyes and mouth on an obnoxiously large head. The size of his body reminded him of those 'would you rather' questions asked at parties with how small it was. Sumo was depicted next to him with similar proportions in regard to his nose.

"I think Sumo is the best part of that whole picture." Conner stated scratching the proud pup behind the ears.

Markus looked at the picture again. "He does kind of steal the show a bit, but I think the other guy is handsome too."

Conner blinked at that comment and smiled softly. He was not flirting, stop looking so deeply into things. Markus handed him a green, cardstock folder containing the finished drawing. "Thank you very much. How much do I owe you?"

Markus shook his head. "Me? Nothing, but if you like, you can donate to the center. Every dollar helps."

"Center?" Conner's held tilted and Markus couldn't help but compare him to a curious puppy.

"The Youth Centers of Detroit. That's what the fair is for. Many local businesses are participating to raise funds for the centers."

"Is that what you're doing?" Conner asked with a gesture to the easel.

"Yep," he popped the p. "A lot of these centers are understaffed and in disrepair. Many of the kids in the city don't have access to the fine arts unless it's through their school and let's be honest, what kid wants to spend their free time at school?"

"What makes you think they would want to go to the youth centers instead?"

"You mean besides the fact that it's completely free? More variety. They can learn about anything they wanted. Theatre. Ceramics. Self-defense. Web-design. I even teach a couple classes during the weekdays."

Conner gave him an appraising look. "Markus Manfred, teaching art classes?" He teased, and Markus puffed out his chest proudly.

"Every Tuesday and Thursday at six o'clock."

"I'd have come check it out sometime, see if you're really as good as you claim."

"Says the guy who has my pieces 'adorning his room'." Markus retorted and took great pleasure in Conner's blush.

Embarrassed and trying to hide it, Conner pulled a fifty out of his wallet and stuffed it in the large pickle jar on a side table that was already nearly full. "I expect all new brushes and paints with that generous donation, Mr. Manfred."

Markus granted him a smile full of teeth. "Of course, Mr. Stern. Only the best for you."

Conner rolled his eyes and grinned, thoroughly enjoying their playful banter. They were only interrupted when someone else entered the tent. "You're good to go on a break, boss." The girl wasn't much younger than Conner, perhaps high school or college freshman. Her brown hair was pulled back in a simple ponytail and she wore paint stained clothes.

"Thanks, Stacy." Markus said moving to put his things away. "Stacy, this is Conner and Sumo. Conner, this is Stacy, one of my students."

Conner shook her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Same here. He's a great teacher." She nodded towards Markus.

"I'm sure he is."

"You should come by the center sometime and check it out. He can turn even the most hopeless cases into true artists."

Conner wasn't sure if he was supposed to be offended by that comment or not.

"Alright, Stacy. No need to over sell." Markus interjected coming to stand next to Conner.

"Just trying to help you out, boss."

"And you're doing a marvelous job, but I think Sumo wants to get out of this stuffy tent. Right Sumo?" The Saint Bernard merely wagged his tail at the mention of his name. "Right. Hey," Markus turned to Conner. "You ever tried a cronut?"

There's that adorable head tilt. "A cronut?"

Markus' eyes widened comically. "Oh my god, you have not lived till you've tried one. Come on." Their arms brushed as they said goodbye to Stacy and exited the tent in search of the legendary pastry.

Markus lead them straight to the right vender, who Conner suspected was a friend of the painter. Jerry handed them each a cronut and bid them adieu as they enjoyed their treat. Conner immediately fell in love with the buttery, flaky goodness, sharing a little with Sumo. "You were certainly right, warm and delectable." Conner said throwing his trash in a nearby garbage can. Sumo huffed, tongue swiping along his lips, searching for any remnants of the sugar treat. "Even Sumo agrees."

"I would never lie to you, especially about food." Markus glanced down at his watch. "I still have time if you would care to take a little stroll."

"I'd be honored." Conner said with a smile.

Markus moved closer as they began a trek through the park, barely glancing at the rest of the attractions. "So, you play the piano, capture emotions onto canvas, run a studio, teach art classes to inspire young artists, and volunteer your free time to your community. Are there any other hobbies I should know about?" Conner asked with a hint of playfulness.

Markus bashfully rubbed the back of his neck. "You make me sound more interesting than I really am."

"Markus, you are interesting." Conner said sincerely. "I've never met someone with as much talent or dedication to their craft as you. You're the epitome of the phrase, 'Live life to the fullest'. It's quite inspiring."

Markus' cheeks darkened. "You keep that up and my head might explode."

"I'm serious."

"I know, and I'm flattered. I just believe that everyone deserves the right to live their lives the best that they can. Everyone deserves to be to be happy." Markus sent a side glance to the man beside him. Speaking of… "Conner, could I ask you a personal question?"

Conner blinked, slightly surprised. "Of course."

"Why did you say yes?"

Conner's brow furrowed. "I don't quite understand."

"Your marriage. Why did you agree to it?"

Conner froze in his tracks, Sumo coming to a stop next to him. Markus turned to look at him, eyes apologetic at asking such a forward question but making no move to dismiss it. Conner steeled himself for the conversation. His spine straightened, and eyes locked forward. He started walking again. "It was a business arrangement."

Markus kept pace with him. "Care to elaborate?"

"Cyberlife is the world's leading producers in robotics and artificial intelligence. Anything smarter than an analog clock, they've got their hands in. Smart phones, tablets, super computers, you name it, they've done it and that's just in the last ten years. Only two people truly brought Cyberlife to the forefront of technological advances. Elijah Kamski and Amanda Stern.

"Elijah is the brains behind Cyberlife's inventions. His genius is unparalleled when it comes to coding and hard-ware. While he could rule the world with a few wires and some software, he's not much of a businessman."

"I'm assuming that's where your mother comes in."

"Amanda has been the CEO of Cyberlife through all its major accomplishments. Without her, there wouldn't be a Cyberlife as we know it.

But while she may be CEO, she doesn't own any shares in the company. The Stern name has no connection to Cyberlife outside its big, glass doors and Amanda hates anything she can't have. She feels that Cyberlife is as much hers as it is the Kamski's."

"Seems like she wants to be part of the family." Markus shook his head in disgust. "What exactly does she gain by marrying you to the Kamski's?"

"Power, prestige, about a third of the shares, second only to the Kamski's."

"And what does the Kamskis get out of this arrangement?"

"Amanda as CEO for the next ten years and then her apprentice for the next twenty."

Markus was silent as he contemplated this information. "That's messed up."

"That's business."

"And through all of that, you're lost in the fine print."

Conner shrugged nonchalantly but Markus could see the tension in his shoulders. "You never did answer my question." Conner looked at him confused. "Why did you agree? You're an adult. You can say no."

Conner didn't answer but his eyes darkened with so much despair that it caused a physical pain in Markus' chest. Now he understood Conner's connection with those paintings of his. The need to reach out and hold this man, to comfort him and protect him, was nearly overwhelming and his hand moved of it own accord. "Conner," he started but Conner spoke.

"It's alright, Markus." His voice was strong, but his smile wavered.

No, it wasn't alright, but Markus didn't know how to fix it.

"You never did answer _my_ question either," Conner stated breaking the tension.

"And what's that?"

"What else can the Marvelous Markus do?"

Markus chuckled slightly. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see."

Conner locked eyes with him. "I suppose so." Those deep brown eyes just seemed to pull Markus in and he was almost afraid he would lose himself in their depths.

The moment was interrupted when Sumo let out a sudden and loud bark and jerked the leash out of Conner's hand, leaving behind an angry sting. "Wait, Sumo! Come back!" He shouted taking off after the energized dog. Markus followed close behind and soon they were chasing Sumo through the park. Apologizing to startled bystanders, Sumo lead them out to a vacant field. Conner lunged for the animal but missed as Sumo turned at the last minute. Jumping to his feet quickly, Markus sped past him and nearly fell flat on his face when Sumo barreled into his legs.

"Sumo, come here!" Conner called but the dog just wagged his tail, let out a 'boof', and dropped into a playful crouch, daring Conner to make a move. A mischievous grin was slowly making its way across his face as he stared down the Saint Bernard. "You won't win, beast."

Warmth spread out from the center of his chest as Markus watched Conner play with Sumo. He looked so different from the moment before, unburdened and…happy. He chuckled quietly at Conner's challenge. The playful atmosphere was thrumming with suspense as man and animal waited for the other to move. A small twitch toward the dog and Sumo took off like a shot. He ran straight past Markus who fingers just brushed his tail. His botched attempt nearly sent him face first into the grass again but a strong grip on his arm kept him from eating dirt.

"Crafty, isn't he?" Conner said with a sly smile and Markus snickered. "Go around and cut him off."

Markus gave him a mock salute. "Aye, aye, Captain." He ran around the tree just as Conner corralled Sumo in that direction and Markus dove for him. His hand closed around the leash, "Gocha," and Sumo slowed to a stop. Both men were breathing hard as they tried to calm their racing hearts. Markus handed the leash off to Conner.

"Thanks."

"You're welcome." Markus replied their fingers brushing. It was then that he remembered, "Your hand." He grabbed Conner's right hand and turned it over, searching for the irritated rash on his palm.

"Oh, it's nothing, really." Conner protested but it died quickly as his hand was cradled gently in warm, calloused hands. Tan fingers brushed over smooth skin, sending a tingle through his palm. He looked up to see mismatched eyes starting at him with a look he couldn't quite describe but sent the butterflies in him shrieking. He just knew he had to be blushing.

"I think you'll be alright." Markus spoke softly, and goosebumps formed on Conner's arms.

The moment broke as Sumo barked and ran a circle around them, effectively wrapping the leash around their legs. "Sumo, No!" Conner cried as he was thrown off balance. His hands immediately latched onto Markus' shoulders as leverage as Markus' hands instinctively landed on his hips. It was futile as they both toppled over with Conner landing on top of Markus, pressing flush against him. Mortified, Conner tried to scramble off him, effectively digging an elbow into Markus' chest and ridding him of all the air in his lungs. "I'm so sorry! I don't know what's gotten into him." Conner apologized, still wiggling. Arms wrapped around him and he froze.

Markus let out a deep belly laugh that Conner could feel reverberating through his core and he stared, mesmerized, at the unbridled joy on Markus' face. The grin revealed pearly white teeth and crinkled the edges of his eyes and Conner longed to run a finger over the tiny ridges. He could almost count the freckles on his nose. A black speck in the green of his left eye twinkled at him. His belly burned as he fought the desire to lean down and kiss him. He was so close.

"It's alright," Markus said breaking him out of his very inappropriate musings and his face burned hotter. "Here," Markus leaned up and Conner panicked, throwing an arm around him without thinking. The artist quickly detangled the leash from their legs and Conner slid off his lap onto the grass gratefully…and secretly disappointed.

"Well, that was interesting." Conner giggled a little self-conscious. Markus just grinned, eyes sparkling. The phone in Conner's pocket buzzed and he pulled it out.

' _Stop stealing my dog, you plastic asshole.'_

"Well, Hank's awake. I better get Sumo back." He stood, holding his hand out to Markus. Fingers circled around his wrist immediately and he pulled him up, blatantly ignoring the tingling left behind as those fingers caressed the inside of his wrist and palm as they let go.

"You seriously stole his dog?" Markus asked with a laugh.

Conner grinned. "Only on my days off."

They stood there, just smiling at each other, when Conner finally backed away. "I'll see you later, Markus."

"See you," Markus replied raising his hand in a goodbye.

Conner returned the wave and reluctantly turned his back, still grinning like a fool. He was really glad he decided to go to the festival today.


	4. Chapter 4

"Did anyone ever tell you that if you keep frowning like that, your face will stick?" Conan ignored the comment in favor of the operations report in front of him. "Then again, it might be too late for you."

The urge to roll his eyes was strong. It usually was whenever Gavin Reed was involved. "Do you have something for me?" He asked almost seeming bored.

A stack of photos landed on his desk, directly on top of the report and his irritation at the man increased. All of the eight by ten photos contained the same subject. It seems Conner took Sumo to Riverside Park Sunday. A few depicted them walking through the festival and Sumo getting petted by strangers. He flipped through them, uninterested until Conner entered one of the tents. Conan's brow furrowed. "Who is this man across from Conner?"

Gavin leaned in to get a better look. "How should I know?"

Conan leveled him with a look and it was Gavin's turn to roll his eyes. "His name is Markus Manfred, a local painter. Quite famous actually. Does a lot of charity work. He was doing caricatures for the festival."

He knew that name. He was one of Conner's favorite artists. His work was all over his brother's room. This also happened to be the same man Conner was talking to at his engagement party. Interesting. Conan flipped through the rest of the photos and the dip in his brow deepened with each one. Photos of them walking side by side through the festival, sharing some kind of pastry. Chasing after a loose Sumo with matching grins. Standing a little too close with Markus inspecting Conner's palm. His eyebrow's twitched at the next one. They were both on the ground with Conner laying on top of Markus. The latter seemed to be in the midst of a good laugh as Conner flushed with embarrassment. The leash wrapped around their legs, suggesting that had lost their balance and tumbled.

"What do you think?" Conan asked suddenly glancing up at the PI.

"About them?" Conan nodded. "I'd say they were good friends."

"But?"

"But…" Gavin reached down and pulled the last photo out of the pile, setting it in Conan's hands. "You don't look at a 'good friend' like that."

They were holding each other's wrists as if one had just helped the other up. The shot was focused on Conner. His eyes were fixated on Markus and… glowing. In fact, Conner's whole face seemed to shine. From his chocolate eyes and rosy cheeks to his soft, warm smile. It was an expression he had only seen on Conner once. Back when they were hormonal teenagers in high school. It was full of hope, care, adoration, and…dare he say it…love. He let out a heavy breath. Damn it, Conner.

"Keep following them," Conan ordered shuffling the photos into a plain manila folder and stowing them in a locked drawer in his desk.

Gavin shook his head with a smirk. "Spying on your own brother. That's cold."

Conan refused to grace that comment with a response. He was doing this for Conner's own good.

* * *

There was something about the smell of ink and the scratching of a pen that put Conner at ease. He found himself locked in his overly spacious office, immersed in quarterly earnings reports and getting lost in numbers and calculations. Numbers were simple and constant, ever-changing but remaining exactly the same. Conner could shut out the chaos of his life and focus solely on the computations. It was one of the better parts of his job and it provided a short retreat from board meetings and performance reviews.

The sound of his dark, office doors opening pulled him from the realm of finances and he blinked. "I should've known you would be hard at work," Chloe stated with a fond smile. Her blue dress stopped just above her knees and cut off at her shoulders. It brought out her blond hair, curling over her left shoulder in a loose ponytail. Simple, pointed black heels covered her feet and she sashayed into his office. "Don't you ever take a break?"

"I did, at lunch," Conner commented, standing as she came around his desk.

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Conner, that was nearly four hours ago."

"And it was sufficient for the rest of the day." She rolled her eyes.

"Whatever you say, Mr. CFO. I just came to tell you that I'll be leaving town for a couple of days."

His brow furrowed. "Why?"

"My cousin had her baby today and I'm heading out there to help her out."

"Oh."

Her hands landed on his biceps and she glanced away. "I'm sorry about the play. I know we said we would go together."

"It's alright." Conner dismissed casually.

"Maybe you could find someone to go with you." She suggested eyes wide with a not so well-hidden hope that he would jump at the chance at social interaction.

"No, I think I just might give them to someone else." That little hope died in her eyes and he only felt a little bad at killing it.

"Alright…well…do whatever you feel like doing and I'll see you in a few days."

"Stay safe."

Chloe smiled warmly at that. "You too. Lord knows how much trouble you'll get into while I'm gone."

"I'm not that hopeless." Conner scoffed, and Chloe raised another eyebrow. People really needed to stop looking at him like that. Soft fingers grazed his cheek and he stiffened slightly. Their eyes met, and Conner felt suddenly trapped. He watched as she raised herself on her toes and an unpleasant knot formed in the space between his stomach and diaphragm. His breath came out in shallow pants and his hands felt like blocks of ice. Her lips brushed his. Eyes wide, he tried to quail the panic rising inside him. The kiss was light and feathery and lasted no more than three seconds, but to him, it felt like years.

She finally pulled away and he schooled his expression. For a moment, he feared he hadn't done it quick enough as her smile was tight and plastered. "I'll see you later, Conner." She said. There was a heaviness to her voice that he didn't understand.

"See you." His response may have been a little too quick as her mouth pressed into a thin line before she turned sharply and strode out. Had he done something wrong?

Slightly confused and uncomfortable with the exchange, he shook his head and sat down, returning to his work. He needed to finish these reports if he wanted to leave on time.

* * *

Six fifteen. He was going to be late. Conner rushed out of the elevator and into the waiting car, slamming the door behind him. "Jeeze, kid. What's your hurry? Got someone waiting for ya?" Hank questioned, grey hair tied back in his 'for work only' hair tie.

"As a matter of fact, yes. Riverside Youth Center, please Hank." Conner requested buckling his seatbelt. Safety first.

He could practically feel that eyebrow. "Why the hell are we going to a youth center?"

Conner huffed softly. "If you must know, I'm meeting a friend." Another eyebrow. "Would you just drive, please?"

"Okay, whatever you say." The car hummed as Hank pulled it into evening traffic, sneaking glances at the back seat through the rearview mirror. A flash of silver danced over knuckles.

"So, this friend?" Hank questioned returning his eyes to the road. "They wouldn't happen to be Markus Manfred would it?"

The coin paused for a millisecond. "How did you know that?"

Hank gave him his best, 'bitch, please' face. "I used to be a detective, Kid. You would not shut up about this guy for weeks whenever he released a new painting, but once you finally meet him? Zilch. You're a little too cavalier about the whole thing." Silence. Hank's brow pinched, and he glanced at the mirror. "You fucking him?"

Conner choked on his spit and dropped his quarter. He hurried snatched it up, face red and sputtering. "Hank! I'm engaged!" He admonished.

Hank just shrugged. "So? People have done worse things while _married_." There was a pregnant pause and Conner pointily avoided the rearview mirror. "Okay, not fucking him…but you want to."

"Hank!" The boy protests too much, methinks. Conner shook his head as his face went blank. "I'm not having this conversation with you." Wait for it. "We're just friends." There it is.

Hank made an agnostic hum and Conner did his utmost to burn a hole in the back of his head. "He _is_. I can have more than one friend, Hank."

"I'm not saying you can't, but usually people don't want to fuck their friends."

"I _don't_ want to fuck him." There was that damn noise again. " _Oh my god_ ," Conner rubbed at his temples. He was starting to get a headache and its name was Hank Anderson. "You are impossible."

Hank huffed out a laugh. "You want to tell me what it is about this guy that's got you blushing like a new bride?"

He was _not_ blushing. He didn't say a word. "Come on, kid. Don't you trust me?" Silence. "Are you really going to give me the silent treatment?"

"You are an asshole."

"And you're a brat. Now that we've established that, get to the good part."

"No. You're just making fun of me."

"Brat, exhibit A." Conner shook his head but couldn't hold back a smile. The car rolled to a stop just outside the center's front doors and he unbuckled. He went to open the door when Hank stopped him with a hand on his knee. He had turned around in his seat to look Conner in the eye. All playfulness had vanished. "In all seriousness, you know you can tell me anything, right?"

Conner smiled warmly at him. "I know, Hank."

"Good," The lieutenant waved him off, turning back around. "Get out of here and go make some babies."

Not being able to decide between blushing or being 'annoying analytical', as Hank put it, he did a combination of both. "You know that's not physically possible."

"Will you get out of here?!"

Chuckling, Conner stepped out and closed the door. He suddenly remembered he was late and he rushed inside. Hank scoffed to himself as he watched the boy run, "Oh, he definitely wants to."

Room one hundred and four was located on the east side of the building, along two corridors and behind a second set of double doors. Conner glanced through the small glass window, spotting his target standing at the front of the class. Suddenly nervous, Conner hastily wiped his sweaty hands on his suit pants and quietly opened the door. No one noticed his appearance as they were all enthralled with the hot teacher demonstrating a technique on his own easel. The classroom itself was slightly larger than average, about 1,657 square feet. Shelving units lined one wall while a continuous countertop lined the other. There were three sinks total, five drying racks, and eighteen easels, each with a student seated in front of them. The door behind him no doubt held a kiln based on the pottery on the selves. There was hardly an inch of this place that wasn't splattered with paint.

His eyes returned to the front where they locked with green and blue. A brilliant smile overtook Markus's face and Conner's followed suit. "It seems we'll have to pick this up next week. Don't forget to practice your techniques. 'Knowledge is of no value unless you put it into practice'."

Shuffling and conversation flowed as the students packed up their supplies. Conner received a few curious glances, but none stopped to speak to him. "You're a bit late for class I'm afraid," Markus said once the room had emptied.

"I know. I got a little held up with work and- "

Markus touched his shoulder. "Conner, I'm kidding."

Conner grinned sheepishly. "Right." His throat prickled, and he slipped his sweaty hands in his pockets. A paint-stained smock covered Markus clothes. There were a few spots on his fingers and arms.

"I have to admit I'm a little surprised to see you here." The painter commented as he moved a few of his paints and brushes to a counter.

"Well, when you said you taught classes, I had to see that for myself."

"And what did you think?"

"You mean what did I think for all of the two minutes that I witnessed?" Conner teased making Markus chuckle. He shifted on his heels. "You have a real gift, Markus, and to be so passionate about it to want to share it with others…it's inspiring."

Markus' eyes crinkled and glowed. "And did I inspire you to try?" He gestured to the easel.

Conner shook his head, waving his hands softly. "Oh, no. I have no talent for art, whatsoever."

"I bet I could prove you wrong."

"I highly doubt that." Markus gave him a look, head tilted. Those eyes are going to be really hard to say no to. Conner sighed. "Fine. Don't say I didn't warn you." Markus moved out of the way and Conner sat down on the stool. Picking up a random brush, he hesitated before dipping it into a robin egg blue. "Um, what exactly am I supposed to paint?"

"That's the beauty of it," Markus replied leaning against the table next to him. "You can paint anything you want. Anything you could possibly imagine." Way to be vague, Markus.

"That doesn't exactly answer my question."

"Here," the man moved to stand behind him. Large, warm hands gently held onto his waist. Warm breath caressed the shell of his ear and Conner fought frantically against his blush. "Close your eyes."

Conner dare not move his head, but his eyes shifted to glance at Markus. "How is this beneficial?"

"Just trust me. Close your eyes." Letting out a breath, Conner did as he was told. He knew immediately that it was a mistake as he became acutely aware of Markus' proximity to him. His blush was determined. "Some of the best art can inflict certain emotions in its viewers, so try pouring your emotions into your art. Think of a strong emotion and just let it flow through you."

Panic. Panic was certainly a strong emotion and right now, the strongest he was feeling. He tried to swallow the pins in his throat. "Uh," that came out a lot breathier than he was hoping. He cleared his throat as subtly as possible. "I don't think I can do that."

There was a husky hum in his ear and Conner's brain jumped to places it should absolutely _not be_. "Okay, how about this?" Markus' voice paused. "Have you ever been to the beach?"

"The beach?" Conner shrugged. "Once."

"And how did it feel?"

"It was- "

"Don't tell me. Show me." Markus commanded, and Conner rushed to obey. He moved his hand forward until he met resistance. He could hear the bristles meeting the canvas. "How did the water feel against your skin?" The brush moved, creating waves of blue against white. The man couldn't help but get closer to the CFO, careful not to let he chest touch Conner's back even though everything in him screamed to do so.

"The sun against your face." Circles appeared on the canvas and Markus' thumbs followed of their own accord.

"The sand under your feet." Dots followed next.

"The wind in your hair." His breath fanned out over his skin, raising goosebumps to the surface.

Markus' voice trailed off as he watched Conner's face. Eyes were still under his eyelids, delicate lashes caressing smooth cheeks. Freckles and moles dotted his face like Conner's sand. Including one on his temple just barely visible underneath chestnut hair. His lips itched to press a kiss to it. Eyes traced the line of his nose to plump, pink lips. He could just imagine how they'd feel against his, soft but firm. His tongue darted out to wet his own lips. He saw Conner's eyes twitch and he hurriedly turned his attention to the painting.

Conner's eyes blinked open, taking in the chaos before him and his expression fell. "It looks like shit."

Markus let out a surprised laugh at the statement. "It does not. It looks like a beach of blue."

"Where in the world do you get a beach out of this mess?"

"Look," copper fingers traced the lines. Waves. "Here's your ocean, calm and soothing." Circles. "Here's your swirling sun." Dots. "Your warm, soft sand." Swirls. "Your gentle wind."

Markus looks so serene describing his painting. Conner tilted his head, trying to view it through Markus' eyes. No change. "It still looks like a bunch of random marks to me."

"Well, you are the creator and we tend to be our own worst critiques. I like it." Markus moved away, taking his heat with him. Conner only now just realized how close he had been, how comfortable.

"If you like it, you might as well keep it." Conner offered, dropping the paintbrush and rising from the stool.

Markus' head snapped toward him as if he couldn't quite believe what he had heard. "Really?" That was more enthusiastic than Conner had expected. It silently pleased him.

"Yes, really. You're the only one who would appreciate it anyway." Conner couldn't imagine what reactions he would get if he took it home. He could almost see the looks, the comments.

"Thank you," Markus said brightly, and Conner held back a proud smile. "I need to start cleaning up."

"I'll help."

Markus looked shocked that he would even offer. "Oh, you don't have to do that."

"It's okay. I want to." His cheeks were starting to hurt some smiling so much, but he couldn't help it.

"Well, if you insist."

Conner nodded once and began to remove his suit jacket. Markus froze, unable to look away. Delicate fingers slipped the buttons of his sleeve cuffs free and rolled up the fabric, exposing pale skin of a strong forearm. Conner shifted, and Markus turned away quickly, praying that the other man hadn't noticed him staring. _Way to be a creep, Markus_. Shaking away his self-beratement, he gently lifted Conner's painting and laid it carefully on the table.

Collecting all of the soiled paint brushed, Conner brought them to one of the empty sinks and turned the handle. It took a minute for the water to flow from the tap and he frowned. It seems the center was in need of more funding than he thought. He ran the brushes under the water.

Sneaking a glance toward the sinks, Markus' mouth went dry. The rolled sleeves gave Conner a relaxed vibe the Markus hadn't felt from him before. His tie had been thrown over his shoulder to keep it from getting wet. Colored water streamed in rivets over elegant hands as brushes swirled along the skin of his palm. A single drop escaped the pool and rolled down the inside of a thin wrist and down that creamy forearm to soak into the crisp, white fabric of the rolled sleeve. Markus swallowed thickly as he tore his eyes away. It was getting rather warm in here.

Brushes cleaned and put away, Conner dried his hands and turned to see a majority of the easels gone. He picked up the last two and brought them over to Markus. There was a hint of redness in his cheeks as he took the easels from him. "Thank you." He folded them and leaned them against the others.

"You're welcome," Conner replied.

Markus held his gaze for a second too long before he snapped himself out of it and looked around the cleared room. "I think that's everything. Thanks again for your help."

"It was no trouble. I'm sorry I was so late though. I'll have to do better in the future."

"Of course, I expect only the best from my students." Markus teased.

Conner grinned when a lightbulb went on in his brain. "Oh, hey. Do you enjoy the theatre?"

"Theatre?" Markus puzzled. "Like plays?" The burnet nodded. "Sure, why?"

"Well, I have a couple of tickets for tomorrow night and I was wondering if you wanted to go. I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to. I just thought that maybe…"

"Conner," Markus cut him off. Conner rambled when he was nervous. Cute. "I would love to."

That beautifully crooked smile grew, crinkling the edges of his eyes. "I'll pick you up at eight."

"Cool, what are we seeing?"

He stopped short. What _were_ they seeing? He didn't know. Chloe always picked, and he just went along with it. "I've got no idea." He confessed.

That pulled a laugh out of Markus. "A mystery, I like it."

Conner chuckled along with him. He knew he had suggested it as to not waste the tickets and to hang out with his friends as Chloe had suggested, but, for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that he had just asked Markus out on a date.

* * *

"I can't believe you asked him out on a date."

A heavy breath escaped as his eyes searched for patience on his vanity's ceiling. Hank was slouched in his reading chair, hands flipping through Conner's latest rainy day read. "It's not a date. We're just hanging out as friends." He explained for the third time.

"Friends don't usually take each other out to the theatre."

"I didn't want to waste the tickets." Conner's fingers expertly knotted the bow tie.

Hank clicked his tongue. "So…Markus is your rebound?"

Conner's eyes did roll this time. "I'm done trying to explain this to you."

The book was tossed back onto the end table. "What's there to explain? Your fiancée wasn't available, so you decided to take your crush instead." He didn't bother to grace that with a response. "So, what are you going to do after?"

"Nothing. Why are you so determined that I sleep with him?" Conner questioned straightening the finished bow tie.

Hank raised his hands in surrender. "Hey, I didn't say anything about you sleeping with him. That's where your mind went…and maybe you'd be less of a stooge if you actually got laid."

"You're impossible."

Hank just shrugged before groaned and dragging himself out of the recliner. Stretching his hands over his head, he let out a satisfied sound as his vertebrae popped back into place. "That chair is so fucking comfortable."

"I know. That's why I bought it."

Hank clapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. "Have fun tonight, kid. Be safe."

"I'm always safe when driving, Hank."

"That's not what I meant," Hank said with a shit-eating grin.

Migraine, thy name is Hank. "Oh my god, Good _night_ Hank." Hank just cackled as he walked out the door.

Conner shook his head at the lieutenant's antics, wondering why they were even friends. Giving himself a once over in the mirror, he shrugged on his jacket and grabbed his keys from his dresser. Closing the door behind him, he glanced up to see Conan watching him from his own bedroom doorway. A bubble of irritation rose up in him at the thought of his brother judging him, but it popped quickly at the thought of their last encounter. Despite only being sixteen minutes behind Conner, Conan always acted like the oldest between them. He was overbearing, overprotective, and downright infuriating, but he always did his best to look after him. He worried in his own, unique way. Affection for his baby brother replaced the irritation and he smiled warmly.

"Goodnight, Conan."

Conan looked a little taken back by his farewell and it was a bit awkward for a few moments as he processed. Eventually, those icy blue eyes softened, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward. "Goodnight, Conner." The door closed with a click. He'd consider this progress.

* * *

Copper fingers straightened his bow tie for the third time and tugged the nonexistent wrinkles out of his suit jacket for the fifth. A tangled ball of live wires writhed in his stomach, tuning his insides with tiny electric shocks. His hands started sweating a while ago and he pressed them into the fabric of the couch. He didn't want to wrinkle his pants.

"I haven't seen you this wound up for a date since Prom. Who's the lucky guy?" Carl rolled up next to the arm of the couch, taking note of his son's nervous fidgeting.

"It's not like that. We're just going to the theatre."

"You and who?"

The darkening of Markus' cheeks was barely visible, but the old artist noticed. "Conner."

White eyebrows twitched at the name. "Conner Stern?"

"Yes."

"The same Conner Stern who just got engaged three weeks ago?"

Shame quieted the bundle of wire and Markus glanced down at his knees, unable to look his father in the eye. "Yeah."

This really wasn't unexpected. Markus always tended to fall for the complicated ones. It was the caretaker in him that drew Markus to the ones that truly needed love. Despite the slight mortification in his words, there was still a bit of pink in Markus's cheeks. The corners of his mouth hinted at a goofy grin and his eyes were bright. Carl didn't know Conner very well, but he had to be something truly special to elicit such a response from his golden-hearted boy. He smiled and leaned back in his chair. "So, you going to tell him?"

Markus looked at him confused. "Tell him what?"

"How you feel about him?"

His son hastened to school his expression but the red in his cheeks darkened. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Bull," Markus needed to stop being surprised by how blunt Carl could be. The older man shifted closer. "Markus, you came home yesterday practically giddy. Now, I haven't seen you like that since you and North got together back in high school. Feelings like that aren't something you can hide."

Markus' mouth was having a difficult time forming words. "It… I… It's not like that. He and I- "He growled in frustration, dragging his hands over his close-cropped hair. "We're… we're just… we're not like that. It's like you said, he's engaged."

"Maybe that's the reason you _should_ tell him."

"Shouldn't that be the very reason that I _don't_?"

"Would you regret it if you didn't?"

He paused, trying to process what was said. Tell him because he was engaged? That didn't make any sense, but…Carl may be right. If he didn't, he could regret it. Living his life not knowing what could have been. It caused a lump to stick in his lungs. He opened his mouth to respond when the doorbell rang and that lump jumped from his lungs to his throat. Holy shit, he was here. Markus practically jumped to his feet and brushed his immaculate suit. Ignoring Carl's knowing grin, Markus answered the door…and promptly last the ability to breathe.

The man he was having a mini existential crisis about was currently sanding under the halo of their porch lights, looking very much like an angel to his eyes. "H-Hi." Markus stuttered still starring.

Conner's grin accompanied a blush. "Hi."

The black tux was reminiscent of that night on the balcony but there was something different this time. Maybe it was his smile or the fact that his eyes were shining instead of being lost in the dark.

Markus was definitely more put together this time around but Conner had to admit that he was seriously missing the loose tie and opened shirt.

"Well, aren't you going to invite him in?"

Heterochromia eyes blinked at Carl's question and he flushed deeply. "Right, come on in." He moved his body out of the doorway and watched as Conner went immediately to Carl, greeting him as the host.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Manfred. You have a wonderful home." Conner complimented shaking the elder's hand.

"Why thank you, Conner, and please, call me Carl. I hear so much about you from Markus, I feel as if I know you already." Markus' grin grew almost manic at Carl's comment and the older man flashed his son a mischievous glance. "He particularly enjoys the painting you gave him. Got it hanging in his room."

His face ended up hidden in his hands, fingers rubbing at his brow. When Carl decided to tease him, it was best to just let him get it all out of his system, lest it becomes worse for Markus.

Their guest just laughed. "I really can't talk. I've got a few of his own pieces in my room as well."

Carl's eyes lit up with this tidbit of information. "Well, isn't that something. You hear that Markus?"

"Yeah, Dad. I already knew."

"Did you now?" Carl was enjoying this way too much.

"Dad," Markus warned.

Carl chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "Alright, I think I've embarrassed Markus enough. You kids have fun tonight. Be careful on the roads."

"We will," Conner assured as he took Carl's hand again. "Again, it was a pleasure to meet you, sir."

"The pleasure was all mine, Conner. I expect to see you around here more often."

"I'll see what I can do," Conner replied as Markus ushered him out the door. The light from the house cut off as the door closed and he turned to Markus. "I like him."

Markus rolled his eyes good-naturedly and started toward the driveway. "He's always enjoyed teasing me."

"Well, that's what dads are supposed to do. He reminds me of Hank."

Catching sight of Conner's car, Markus let out a low whistle. "MGB Roadster. Nice. What year?"

"Seventy-four. I bought her a couple years ago. She's one of the few things that is actually _mine_." Conner said opening the passenger door of the convertible. Markus gave him a playfully-not so playful-flirty grin and batted his eyelashes.

"Such a gentleman. Do you treat all your dates with this much chivalry?" He slipped into the seat and Conner closed the door, leaning against it.

"Only the good-looking ones." He gave Markus a wink and silently basked in his victory at the resulting blush.

The exchange was a preview for the drive as they tried to one-up each other with cheesy pickup lines and desperately trying to fluster the other. Markus won, seeing as he was much cheesier than Conner and his dark skin hid the redness better than Conner's pale skin. This camaraderie was wonderfully pleasant and Conner found himself relaxing more and more. Markus had this way for breaking down his walls and reaching the human he tried too hard to hide.

* * *

The intermission couldn't come soon enough as Conner and Markus stood just outside the theatre doors. "Well," Markus started a little unsure about the proper way to phrase his next sentence without sounding rude. "That was…"

"Boring," Conner interjected and Markus chuckled at his bluntness.

"Yeah."

"It's not really what I expected."

Markus hummed in agreement before a brilliant idea was made by his ever growling stomach. "Hey, you hungry?"

"Um, yes."

Smiling, Markus grabbed his hand and Conner's heart fluttered. "Come on then." They walked out of the building, hands still clasped, missing the end of the intermission. Markus steered them away from the parking lot and Conner's car. Confused, the brunet didn't say anything, not wanting to remind Markus that his hand was still clinging to his and having him remove it. They walked down the busy sidewalk to a diner on the corner.

It stank of cheap, greasy food and boasted a fifty's motif. Conner loved it. It reminded him of Hank. "This place has the best burgers and shakes, hands down," Markus said, guiding him to an empty booth near the window and sitting down across from him, hands automatically removing the bow tie and loosening a few buttons on his shirt. Conner's eyes had no choice but to follow his movements, resting on the smooth skin of his neck and collar bones. He looked away as a waitress approached their table.

"What will it be gentlemen?" She asked pleasantly, notebook and pen pose and ready to write. Her neon pink uniform was stained and wrinkled from working a full shift. Dirty blond hair was piled on the top of her head.

"Two number fours please," Markus said and she nodded.

"Good choice and what to drink?"

"Water, please."

She smiled down at them." I'll be right back with those." And she left them to their own devices.

Markus looked at him a little sheepish. "I hope you don't mind that I ordered for you. You just really need to try their burgers."

"It's alright. I don't mind. Considering I have never been here before, it's only logical."

His companion snickered. "Whatever you say, Spock."

Conner did his adorable head tilt and Markus' stomach dropped. "What is a 'spock'?"

Markus just stared. "Are you telling me that you've never seen Star Trek?" Conner just shook his head. He hissed under his breath, "you uncultured swine." He reached out a hand and patted his forearm. "Don't worry Con. We'll educate you on the artistic beauty of science fiction soon enough."

Conner paused, his eyes wide. Markus did the head tilt this time. "What?"

"It's just, no one, besides Hank, has called me 'Con' in a long time."

"I didn't offend you, did I?" Markus asked worriedly.

"No, no. Of course not, it's just nice to hear." He sent Markus a smile and received one in return.

The waitress came back with their food and Conner had to admit that it looked delicious, despite the extremely high calories. Following Markus' lead, he picked up the overly large burger and took a bite. His mouth exploded with a mosaic of flavors ranging from spicy to tangy. He stared at the food wide-eyed. "Wow," he said softly in awe.

Markus was grinning over his own burger. "I know right," and he took another bite. There wasn't much conversation between them as they ate but it wasn't long before Markus was regaling him with stories from his childhood. A particular one of the Jericrew and a couple cans of spray paint had Conner laughing until his belly hurt.

"Well," Conner said still laughing and pressing a hand to his aching stomach. "It sounds to me like you were quite a delinquent in your early years, Mr. Manfred."

Markus scoffed. "Says the guy who got arrested for blowing up a freighter."

Conner's eyes went comically wide and his jaw slacked. "I'll have you know, that that was a one-time thing!" He protested over Markus' guffaws.

"I beg to differ. Any other criminal acts I should know about? Bank robberies? Jewel heists? Tramp stamps?"

Conner's face reddened and he averted his eyes on the last suggestion and it was Markus' turned to be shocked. "Holy shit, I was joking. You have a _tramp stamp_?!"

"No," Conner hissed but still flushed. "It's not a tramp stamp."

"But you do have a tattoo?" Conner just nodded. "Oh my god. Where is it and what is it?"

"I'm not telling you."

"Why not?!"

"Because you're making fun of me."

"Aw, but I'm your best friend," Markus whined. Conner pursed his lips and shook his head, unfazed. Markus pouted. "Fine, killjoy, but I'll find out sooner or later." Even if I have to take all of your clothes off to do it. No. Bad Markus.

The waitress returned. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

"Yes, a caramel mocha shake please," Markus said and she turned to Conner.

"Nothing for me, thank you."

Markus gave him a look. "Conner, milkshakes are part of the burger experience."

Conner laughed. "I would but if I eat any more, I think I might burst."

Markus made an over exaggerated groan. "Fine, you can share with me." The waitress nodded with an understanding grin and hurried off to fill their order. Conner just shook his head fondly.

"Thanks for inviting me out tonight, Conner," Markus said sincerely. "I had a lot of fun."

"I did too, even if the play was rather dull," Conner smirked.

"Yeah, well, at least we got these delicious burgers out it. And the company isn't half bad either." He ended that sentence with a wink and Conner felt his face heat up. The waitress arrived in half the time and placed a light brown beverage between them with two straws sticking out of the mountain of whipped cream.

"Oh my god, this is a heart attack in a cup," Conner said scooting up excitedly, blatantly ignoring his previously stuffed stomach.

"Just wait till you try it," Markus said grabbing his straw and putting it in his mouth. Conner's mind wanted to slip into the gutter but he restrained it with a sip of his own. It was even better than the burgers. Conner practically melted in his seat.

"Markus, I will never question your culinary tastes ever again."

"Damn, right you won't." The painter said smugly, tongue darting out the pulled the straw back into his mouth with a cocky grin. Stop it, Conner. His dirty mind was not going to ruin this moment for him. After all, it was the most fun he's had in a long time.


	5. Chapter 5

The background was coming together nicely and would certainly draw the viewer's eyes to the center of the piece. Markus placed his brush to the side and took a cleansing breath. The color was muted, not much different than the original color of the canvas but it had a few shades and breaks to avoid feeling too empty. His phone buzzed on the side table, breaking the calm environment he had created and startling him a bit. Annoyance pinched his face as he snatched up the Plastic-wrapped device. The annoyance vanished with a grin when he saw who had texted him.

' _Why the fuck are there so many shades of white?!'_

Shaking his head, Markus typed back a response with paint-stained fingers.

' _Hello to you too, Conner.'_

The young CFO only tended to curse when he was beyond frustrated with something and whatever it was had to be particularly grating to warrant the drop of the F-bomb. It wasn't long before his phone buzzed again.

' _Seriously, white is white.'_

 _'And hi Markus.'_

The painter chuckled.

' _What has white ever done to you?'_

' _Besides supposedly having more than one shade?'_

 _'Having my fiancée and her mother asking me whether cream or eggshell goes better with eggplant.'_

 _'EGGPLANT MARKUS!'_

A laugh escaped him on that one. It seems Conner is in desperate need of saving.

' _Tell them to go with a bright white.'_

 _'Anything else and it'll just look dirty.'_

The phone in his hands remained still as he patiently waited for the verdict. Ding.

' _They officially believe me to be a color genius.'_

 _'Thank you!'_

Chuckling softly, Markus typed his reply.

' _Glad to be of service.'_

 _'I expect payment in the form of Pauli's giant caramel mocha shake.'_

 _'You got it.'_

That winky face at the end did things to Markus' insides that should be considered illegal. Cheeks aching, he set his phone down and set about cleaning up his supplies. He was in the middle of cleaning up his brushes when his phone suddenly blew up. A little startled, he dried his hands as quickly as he could and hurried to grab his phone that was doing it best impression of Carol of the Bells. "Jesus, Conner," he muttered to himself, opening his messages.

' _This was a huge mistake.'_

 _'Mayday! Mayday! They want my 'expertise' for the rehearsal dinner place settings.'_

 _'I don't know anything about place settings!'_

 _'Markus, help me!'_

 _'Why are there so many shades of the same color?!'_

 _'MARKUS!'_

 _'Oh, why didn't I lie?!'_

 _'I blame you for this.'_

 _'No shake for you.'_

His smile grew wider with each new message and he could practically hear Conner's panicky voice in each one. The last one had him dissolving into chortles and scrambling to answer back. The deliciousness of Pauli's shakes was on the line.

* * *

Conner sighed and rubbed his eyes. Figuring out the color schemes for the wedding ceremony, reception, and rehearsal dinner compounded into a migraine despite the marvelous tips from the man behind the curtain, or massage as it were. He could hear Hank's hastily muffled laughter as Chloe dragged him from one set of China to another. It was unfortunate that his bodyguard was immune to his glares or we would have been a steaming pile of goo on the department store floor.

Rubbing his temples, he almost didn't notice Conan approach him. "Headache?" His brother asked.

"Unfortunately."

"I'll have someone bring you an aspirin, but for now," the slight warning tone in Conan's voice set Conner on edge. "She wants to see you."

Something akin to ice flashed through his veins and all expression slid from his face. "Thank you for informing me." Conan nodded seriously. A hand on his bicep squeezed reassuringly before he mounted the stairs.

The door was closed, it always was, and he allowed himself a moment to purge and collect his thoughts. Taking a deep breath, he turned the brass knob and entered. Her office at the manor was almost identical to the one at Cyberlife, all cool colors and sharp edges. He avoided this room like that plague when he was a kid, afraid that he would somehow impale himself on the furniture or art around the room. There was even the accent wall with blood red roses creeping up to the ceiling. That's where he found her, carefully pruning the flowers she loved so much.

"Good afternoon, Conner." Amanda greeted unbothered to turn and address him.

Conner stood stock still, hands clasped behind his back, ram-rod straight, and eyes fixed on a point just above her head. "Good afternoon, Mother."

"How was your time with Chloe?" Those hands, thin but precise, snipped the dead and dying leaves and blooms from the healthy ones.

"Productive. We managed to finalize the color scheme and place settings for both the rehearsal dinner and reception if you should want to review it."

"I'm sure what you two have chosen with be sufficient." She dismissed the suggestion with barely a wave or her shears. "And Chloe? How is she handling everything?"

"Remarkably well. She had booked the venue for both events and the 'save the date' cards have been delivered."

"Excellent. Very good, Conner." Snip. Snip. "And how much time have you spent together?"

Conner's brow pinched as he attempted to understand her question. "We were together today during the selection."

"I meant outside planning for the wedding and your work at Cyberlife." Snip. "How much time have you spent together recreationally?" Snip. Snip. Snip.

A pale hand tightened around a thin wrist, sending pens and needles dancing down his fingers. "Not much, I'm afraid."

Amanda hummed, displeased with his answer. "Take her out tonight. Spend some downtime with your fiancée. If you want to form any kind of relationship with her, you actually have to put in the work."

Her tone dictated that this wasn't a suggestion and Conner's own grip was becoming painful. He was probably leaving behind bruises. Tonight was supposed to be his night with Markus. They had planned a Star Trek marathon after the artist discovered his lack of sci-fi knowledge and was determined to make him a 'true Trekkie'. Now, it would seem that he'd have to cancel. Nails dug into the flesh of his wrist to keep his expression from voicing his displeasure.

"You may go, Conner. Enjoy tonight." Snip. Dismissed.

"Thank you, Mother." Conner bowed his head to her back before walking out the door and calmly closing it behind him. He sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose. This was not how he imagined this day going.

Retreating to his room, he barricaded himself in and hit speed dial on his phone. He counted three rings before it was answered. _"Well, hello there stranger. Thanks for all the text messages, you kinda blew up my phone."_ The sound of Markus' voice never failed to put a smile on his face.

"Sorry about that."

 _"Don't worry about it. It was a pleasant distraction."_ There was the sound of rustling as if Markus had shifted the phone to a more comfortable angle against his ear. _"So, what do I owe the pleasure of your call?"_

For a split second, Conner had forgotten why he had called, content to just listen to Markus speak, but the question brought him back to the true purpose of the conversation and his smile fell. "Markus, I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to cancel tonight."

 _"Is everything alright?"_

"Depends on your definition." He took a deep breath. "Amanda has informed me that I have been neglectful in my duties to Chloe and has…suggested that I take her out this evening. I won't be able to attend out marathon."

 _"Okay, raincheck then,"_ Markus replied pleasantly.

Conner blinked. "You're not upset?"

 _"Not, why would I be?"_

"…because I wasn't able to stick to the original agreement we had made?"

 _"And that's okay. You're human, Conner. Things are going to mess up our plans all the time. You just have to adapt a bit. Nobody's perfect."_ There was silence as Conner tried to process what he had said. _"I'm not mad, Conner,"_ Markus assured softly.

"Promise?" Conner cringed at the very child-like question that slipped out.

 _"Promise."_ He could hear the fond smile drifting through the speaker.

Conner practically deflated with relief. "Okay. I just wish…"

 _"I know. Me too."_ Not for the first time, Conner wondered how he was lucky enough to warrant having a friend like Markus. They took a moment to just listen to each other breath, each morning for their lost time and secretly yearning for the next to come. _"Go see Chloe, Conner. We'll hang out another time."_ Markus said softly breaking the fragile silence.

"Alright. Goodbye, Markus and don't watch any without me." The last part was added hastily and was only partly playful.

 _"Of course not,"_ there was that smile again. _"Goodbye, Conner."_ There was a faint click and Conner pulled the device away from his ear. It wasn't nearly enough, but it would have to do for now. Finding himself sighing again, Conner typed out a quick message.

 _'Would you care to join me for dinner tonight at Maroni's?'_

Chloe's response was almost immediate.

 _'I would love to!'_

 _'I'll pick you up at six.'_

 _'Can't wait!'_

Chloe's emojis didn't make him smile quite like Markus' does.

* * *

Here he was in another suit at yet another event he had no desire to be at. Chloe sat across the table from him, a vision in lavender, delicately spinning her pasta with her silver fork and spoon. His own ravioli was slowly cooling in the white china dinner plate in front of him. Hank sat at the table next to them, silently enjoying his own meal while scanning the area around them and not-so-subtly rolling his eyes at their inability to fill the space between them with any type of conversation. Conner took small sips of his wine from the spotless crystal glass, eyes fixed on the candle flickering the silver candle stick in the center of the immaculate white table cloth.

His eyes flickered to Hank, who gave him a pointed look and gestured to Chloe, mouthing an aggressive 'talk to her'. He cleared his throat. "How is your food?" He asked and Hank face-palmed.

"It's delicious," Chloe replied with a polite smile. "And yours?"

"It is very good."

"That's good." The silence was back, and Conner could feel Hank's unimpressed glare heating up the side of his face and he pointedly avoided looking over. He was getting a lecture on the finer point of social conversations on the way home tonight for sure.

"I wanted to thank you for taking me out tonight." She said fork pushing the pasta around her plate. "I know we haven't seen much of each other these past few weeks, with both of us being so busy."

"I know," he acknowledged. "I apologize for neglecting you."

"Oh, I'm not upset or anything. I mean, both of us have lives to live. I just wanted to thank you for taking the time to spend tonight with me. That's all."

"Oh…" he didn't really know what to say to that. "You are welcome, I suppose."

She smiled warmly at him. "Were you able to watch the play the other night? Or did you give the tickets away?"

"Right, the play. Um…" his mind flashed to Pauli's dinner, laughing and enjoying great food with a certain beautifully mismatched man. He couldn't decide if this feeling was bitter or sweet to the taste. "I went for a portion of it but wasn't able to stay for the full performance. Special…circumstances arose that required my…immediate attention."

"Oh, that's too bad." Chloe's hands disappeared beneath the table. "I would have liked to hear how it ended.

That bitter sweet taste soured, and he swallowed the rest of his wine to chase it away. The awkward silence was back, making his ears ring painfully. The conversations of the other patrons nor the soft music playing over invisible speakers did nothing to dispel it. It was, of course, Chloe that broke it. "Do you remember that carousel that we used to ride all the time when we were kids?" She asked looking away as her hand tapped her chin. "I can't remember the name of it."

He knew exactly which one she was referring to. "The Cullen Carousel."

Her eyes lit up. "Yes, that's the one."

"Yes, I remember it." He smiled. "I also happened to remember that your brother challenged us that we couldn't ride it without throwing up."

She giggled, hand covering her mouth. "Yeah, and each of us rode it till we did."

"If I remember correctly, you beat us all. Rode it ten times."

"You were a close second."

"Then Elijah."

"Then, of course, Conan." She giggled again. "Poor Conan, he was never very good with rides."

Conner shook his head fondly. "He had a weak stomach. He would get so mad at me when I forced him onto anything with any kind of spin to it. He'd always end up a little green afterward."

They laughed lightly together, bonding of memories of their shared childhood. "Those were the days, weren't they?" She said wistfully. "No work. No responsibilities." She shifted slightly in her seat, the mood dropping quickly with her tone. "Whatever happened to those days, Conner? We used to be such good friends and now…now, we hardly talk to each other."

Conner looked away, staring into the bottom of the wine glass rolling between his fingers. He couldn't answer her. So much had changed since then. He had changed.

"Hey," a perfectly manicured hand reached across the table and gently grabbed his wrist. He glanced up at his…fiancée. She smiled softly at him, blue eyes glowing in the candlelight. "Why don't we go?"

His head tilted. "Go where?"

"Back to the carousel. I'm sure it's still there. We could go back to those days. Just for a little while."

His mouth opened to refuse her. There was no use in dwelling in the past, but…maybe…just this once. The smile grew on his face. "Let's go."

Grinning, they stood together, and Conner helped her put on her coat. Hank glanced at them confused. "Just where are you two going?" He asked standing as well.

"On an adventure," Chloe declared giggling.

"Would you bring the car around Hank?" Conner asked slipping into his own coat. To his credit, Hank just shook his head and did as he was asked.

They paid the bill and were soon cruising toward Cullen Plaza and the childhood memories hidden there. They could see the operator starting to close down the carousel and ran the rest of the way. "Wait, sir! Wait!" Chloe called trying to catch her breath.

"I'm closing up for the night, guys." Said the man with the name tag the read, 'Jerry'.

"We know. We would just like a few minutes. Please?" Conner asked.

Jerry's eyes flicked between the two of them, taking in their ruffled evening clothes and faces filled with childish hope. He sighed good-naturedly and smiled. "A few minutes."

Chloe bounced in excitement and Conner thanked the man and handed him a hundred for his trouble. They opened the gate and rushed to the glowing carousel. Chloe chose a beautifully-painted white stallion and Conner mounted the chestnut one next to her. The music started up and the ride began to spin slowly. Chloe giggled and for a moment, Conner could see the little girl he knew years ago. Platinum blond hair up in pig tails and chubby cheeks pink with laughter. Feet barely able to reach the stirrups and safety belt wrapped around her waist. What had happened to the feeling of freedom that came with those days? How did things get so jaded with age? That little girl was one of his close friends and now? Now, he found himself engaged to her with no desire to replace what they had back then. Why did life have to taint those good memories?

The carousel slowed to a stop and they got off, Chloe still giggling. They thanked Jerry and walked back to the car where Hank was waiting with an amused smile. The ride back to the Kamski's mansion was filled with Chloe reminiscing about their childhood and Conner doing his utmost not to ruin the mood.

Ever the gentleman, Conner walked her to the door. "Thank you for tonight, Conner. I haven't had fun like that in a while. Hopefully, we can do it again soon." She said hesitantly, brushing a stray curl from her face.

"Of course, Chloe," Conner replied with a polite smile. "Goodnight."

As he went to turn away, a hand on his arm stopped him. Resting on the step just below her, Chloe was able to look him in the eye and she stepped toward him. The same panicked feeling from that afternoon in his office bubbled up inside him, threatening to burst. His muscles seized as her warm breath ghosted over his face and he held his breath to keep from hyperventilating. The moment her glossy lips met his, his hand flew to her arm as if to push her away.

A little voice in the back of his head informed him that this is what an engaged couple does. They were affectionate, intimate, with each other. Be affectionate, Conner. That sounded too much like Amanda. Swallowing down the panic, he forced himself to loosen his grip and just allow what was happing.

Encouraged by his reaction, Chloe's head tilted, slotting her lips against his closed mouth. Her hand held the back of his neck, keeping him from escaping.

You can stop now, he pleaded. Please stop. It was as if she heard him as she finally, _finally_ , broke the kiss. She seemed more relaxed in her smile as she gazed lovingly at him. Don't do that. "Goodnight, Conner." Her voice was husky, and he shivered. It had nothing to do with desire. She turned away and headed inside, and Conner could finally breathe. A shaking hand wiped at his mouth and he desperately tried to calm his racing heart.

The night seemed like a success. He had spent the adequate amount of time with Chloe and was even affectionate towards her. The little trip down memory lane was unexpected and it wasn't clear if it had been welcome. Amanda would be proud. So, why did he feel like he was going to be sick?


	6. Chapter 6

If someone had asked him what his favorite place in the world was, he wouldn't reply with the office, where he spent a majority of his time. He wouldn't say the manor where he slept with his brother across the hall from him or Riverside park where he walked Sumo on the weekends. He wouldn't even say Hank's house, where he felt the most comfortable. It was Riverside Youth Center, Room 104 to be exact. It's the place he would run to after a long day of work on Tuesdays and Thursdays, desperate to see those beautifully bright eyes that would great him with a smile as the students filed out for the evening. It was the place where he would finally get a moment to breath and be Conner for a few minutes. Markus never failed to smile and light up his world as he beckoned him to come inside.

Today, a different view greeted him as he opened the door and froze in his tracks. Markus, bent over scrubbing a cray-crusted floor, faded and stained denim stretched over a shapely ass on display for all to see. Terribly wonderful images flew to the front of his mind and Conner absent-mindedly licked his lips. He could just picture grabbing a handful of those plump cheeks, squeezing. Perhaps lifting him onto the desk, kissing that beautiful mouth and tasting the delicious copper skin.

"You're late Mr. Stern." Oh shit. Conner forcefully ripped himself out of his completely inappropriate (and oh so wonderful) daydream to see the object of his desire on his knees (that position wasn't helping to calm his racing heart whatsoever), smirking at him. "Perhaps detention will teach you to be on time."

Thankfully, the only symptom of his embarrassment was his pounding heart and a flushed face and nothing else. "And what would my punishment be, Mr. Manfred?" Yay, he didn't stutter and delivered an adequate reply.

"Helping your overworked teacher clean the floor, for starters." A rag was tossed at his head and he deftly caught it.

"Whatever you say, sir." He teased. He swiftly removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves before kneeling next to the poor overworked, underpaid art teacher. He got to work scrubbing the floor but was hindered by his ridiculously expensive silk tie. Throwing it over his shoulder didn't work as it just slid back to his front, nor would it stay tucked in between the buttons of his shirt. "I wonder if this what it's like to have long hair." He muttered to himself trying to work around the article of clothing.

"Girl's all around the world would cheer at your revelation," Markus said laughing at his struggle. "Here." He reached over and pulled the tie loose and tossed it onto his jacket. "There, now you don't look like a stuck-up businessman."

"Hey, I happen to be a stuck-up businessman," Conner replied unbuttoning his collar.

"I don't think so. I don't know very many businessmen that would lower themselves to help a middle-class teacher scrub floors."

"This? This is just a ploy to increase my philanthropist reputation. I need that to drive up the stock in my business. It just happens to a benefit that it's with an attractive man."

Markus paused raising an eyebrow at him. Conner could feel his cheeks warm. "You think I'm attractive?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, you certainly are aesthetically pleasing. I could state statistics and say that men with tan skin and light eyes tend to be found the most attractive coupled with that fact that you are physically fit, have a smooth yet masculine voice, and hobbies and talents that most find intriguing. You are intelligent and unique…" He trailed off to see Markus smirking at him and his blush deepened. "Yes, I find you very attractive."

Markus' laugh was almost breathy and made him warm and giddy inside. "You're quite attractive too, Conner. Though I would say somethings differently." Conner gazed at him, almost curious as what someone else would find attractive in him. Markus' shifted slightly. "Physically, you are beautiful. Smooth, creamy skin. Dark brown hair that one can't help but touch. Dark eyes that just draw you in and hold you as if you were the only thing in the world that mattered. Immaculate suits that make one wonder what you would look like when no one's watching. It makes me want to paint you. Show the world what I see. A beautiful, intelligent man with a heart of gold."

Conner was in awe. No one's ever described him like that before and it was wonderfully poetic. He knew he was attractive for a man, but he didn't think attractiveness could come through such simple things. Neither of them noticed that through out their rants, they had been getting slowly closer to each other. He could feel the warmth of Markus' breath caressing his face and, for a moment, he entertained the idea of closing the gap between them and stealing a kiss, eyes flicking to smooth lips. It was perfect, like a dream, but as that urge in him grew, he caught sight of Markus' eyes mirroring his and his mind flashed to Chloe's kiss. Would Markus' kiss feel like hers, uncomfortable and forced? Suddenly nauseous, Conner looked away quickly, returning to his work, furiously scrubbing the dirt and scuff marks on the floor.

Trying not to feel disappointed when Conner pulled away, Markus slowly followed his lead. If Conner's speech told him anything, it was that he was definitely interested in him. Possibility that that interest could become something more sent an excited spark through him and he was so hoping that they could find out. Perhaps he was just shy. Or perhaps it was because the man had a fucking fiancée. Damn it, Markus. How could he just forget about Chloe completely? This man was spoken for and here he was encouraging infidelity. No wonder Conner pulled away. He was a good person and Markus was temptation.

They worked in silence, the tension between them slowly fading. "Well, I think it's as clean as it's going to get," Markus said tossing his soiled rag into the bucket of chalky water.

"It probably hasn't looked this good in years." Conner teased, and Markus flicked some water at him in retaliation. He flinched away, laughing. "Hey! Watch the suit!"

"You're the one who decided to wear it to an art class."

"I came straight from work. There wasn't a lot of time to change in between." Markus gave him a strange look; brow pinched, head tilted. "What?"

"You came here right after work?"

"Well, yeah. Work usually ends at six and I try to get here as quickly as possible to avoid being too late, but traffic is terrible at this time and I end up missing the class anyway." Conner rambled. He was still giving him that look.

"You came across town in rush hour traffic just to attend my class?"

"Yes?" Conner replied unsure. "I mean, when else am I going to be able to see you?" That look was still there, and he shifted a little to avoid it. It was making his heart pound in his ears. "What?! Quit looking at me like that!" He demanded embarrassed.

Markus couldn't describe the feeling that was pressing against his rib cage and poured itself into the length of his smile. He could feel it crinkling the corners of his eyes and straining his cheeks. It only increased at seeing Conner's growing blush. To think that Conner went well out of his way just to come see him. It made him practically giddy. "Conner," that glorious, wonderful, beautiful man glanced over at him, cheeks still pink. "All of your detentions have been revoked."

Conner's eyes went wide before they glittered with his smile. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to serve them." The smile turned mischievous. "How else is this poor, overworked art teacher ever going to get anything done?"

Heterochromia eyes rolled to the ceiling. "Smartass." Markus picked up the bucket as Conner chuckled softly, the mysterious feeling lingering just outside their conversation. No doubt Conner felt it too as their bodies brushed with each movement. Hopefully someday, they'll be able to speak about it. Until then, small gestures were all they could give, and Markus would gladly take them.

* * *

The man who answered the door was certainly not Markus. Sunken, red-rimmed eyes glared at him from the doorway. A thread-bare beanie covered brown hair. Stubble dotted a pale face and Conner blinked, not quite sure what he was supposed to do. He hesitated too long, and he could see the irritation glistening in dark eyes. "What the hell to you want?" The man growled with all the aggression of a pissed of chihuahua.

"Um…Hello? I'm here for Markus Manfred?" He said with a little wave.

The guy sneered and crossed his arms, leaning on the door. "Yeah, you look like something he'd be into."

His brow furrowed. "I beg your pardon?" Conner was a little confused.

The man turned and yelled into the house. "Markus! Your twink is here!" Conner's inner Amanda scowled and hissed that the terrible display of manners. And what did he just call him?

The man walked into the house, leaving the door wide open. Conner didn't understand. Was that an invitation for him to come in? Was his supposed to come in? He hesitantly stepped over the threshold and closed the door behind him. He heard the tell-tale squeak of wheels over hard-wood floors and turned to greet Carl with a smile.

"Conner, it wonderful to see you again," Carl said taking his hand.

"Hello, Carl. How are you today?"

"Fine, fine," Carl replied. "Markus has been nothing but wired energy since you said you were coming by. He's determined to give you the full 'movie marathon' experience."

Conner laughed, picturing an overexcited Markus bouncing from one task to another. "I can't wait. I've never had a movie marathon before."

"Really?" Carl question a little surprised.

"Mother never believed in movies. Said they would rot our brains."

Carl hummed. "Well, movies are just another form of art. They can inflict emotions and lessons on the viewer in ways that other art can't. You're in for a treat."

The young man who greeted him at the door came up behind Carl and Conner could feel his hackles raising. The man set him on edge and he wasn't sure why. "Ready to go?" He asked.

Carl nodded. "Conner, this is Leo. My son. Leo, this is Conner Stern. Markus' friend."

"I'm sure." The smile he shot Conner was nowhere near pleasant and Conner held back the urge to glower at him. Thin eye brows pinched as Leo looked a little closer. "Stern? Like, the Cyberlife Stern?"

"Yes. She's my mother."

Leo hummed, much like Carl had. He looked Conner up and down and Conner held back a shudder. He didn't like the way he was being observed, like a fly under a microscope.

Footsteps echoed as Markus rounded the corner and Conner perked up, smile spreading in response to the man's presence. "Hello, Markus."

"Hello, Conner. I'm glad you could make it." He leaned down and hugged Carl. "Enjoy yourself."

"The same to you two, though, not too much I hope." The old man winked, and Markus rolled his eyes.

"Dad," He warned playfully, and Carl just chuckled. Leo huffed before grabbing the wheel chair handles and guiding Carl out the door. Conner watched them slightly confused.

"They're not joining us?"

"No, tonight is their 'bonding night', as Carl calls it." He closed the door and locked it before turning back to Conner with a grin. "It's just us."

Conner's stomach clinched at the thought of being all alone with Markus. He couldn't tell if it was a good feeling or not. He's been alone with Markus before, but there was something completely different to being alone with him at the youth center and being alone together at his own home.

Markus' looked him up and down with a critiquing eye. "Are you really going to wear that?"

Conner gazed down at his simple kaki pants, tucked in light blue buttoned shirt, and dark brown loafers. "What's wrong with this?"

"You look like you're meeting your girlfriend's parents for the first time. We're having a movie marathon. Comfort is key."

"This is comfortable."

Markus shook his head. "Come on, I have some things you can change into." He started up the stairs and Conner hesitating before following. The second floor was filled with as much personality as the first with book shelves lining the walls as well as numerous paintings by both father and son bring flashes of color to the deep browns of the book shelves. Markus turned into a hallway and opened the last door on the right.

Conner assumed the room belonged to Markus as it was furnished with a single bed, a desk covered in various art supplies and drawings and a small easel carrying an unfinished painting rested in the corner. More art work covered the walls as well as more book shelves. Markus was rummaging through his dresser before pulling out a few articles of clothing. "I think these will fit you." He said handing them over. "The bathroom's right across the hall."

Shrugging silently to himself, Conner closed the bathroom door and began to strip out of his clothes. Markus had given him a pair of paint speckled sweatpants and a soft cotton t-shirt. Markus was a bit broader in the hips and shoulders than Conner was as he had to pull the drawstring tightly around his waist. The shirt was a bit loose, showing off the tips of his collar bones. Conner combed back his hair with his fingers before emerging from the bathroom.

"Is this better?" Markus turned at the sound for Conner's voice and his heart started pounding. Warmth pooled in his belly at the sight of the other man dressed in his clothes, hair slightly ruffled and cheeks pink. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed, Markus' bed to be exact. A small part of him screamed that he forget Star Trek and just spend the evening ravishing Conner. He wanted that flush to be from a physical reaction, not embarrassment. He clamped down in the voice and smiled at the brunet.

"Much better."

* * *

"Are Spock and Kirk together?" Conner asked popping another piece of popcorn into his mouth, eyes fixed on the T.V. The camera focused on the pure joy on the Vulcan's face- that he attempted to reign in- at the sight of his captain alive and well.

"It certainly seems like it, doesn't it?" Markus replied. "There's certainly evidence for it."

"But they never show that they are," Conner said but Markus' expression made him doubt that.

"Don't they?" His companion shifted closer. "Whoever said love had to be big declarations and kisses in the rain? For me, true love is quiet. It whispers instead of yells. It's evident in the little things that they do for each other." His eyes locked with Conner's and he gave him a smile that seemed to whisper. "Love isn't loud, Conner."

"It's in the little things." Conner finished smiling softly. Markus' eyes glittered. The T.V. cast a faint glow across his skin, making him look other-worldly and untouchable. He didn't seem real and the urge to lean forward and find out for himself if he was really seated next him was nearly unbearable. His lips beckoned him to have a taste. Would they be buttery and warm like the popcorn they had been eating or would they have their own unique flavor? Maybe both?

Swallowing thickly, Conner forced his eyes back to the show, trying to ignore the gaze that was currently searching the side of his face. Markus grinned and followed his partner's lead, resting his hand next to Conner's on the couch.

Conner glanced at him from the corner of his eye then down at his hand. Maybe… His hand inched slowly towards his, pausing to gage Markus' reaction. The smile the man was trying to hide was a dead give way. He knew exactly what Conner was doing and was making no move to stop him.

Pinkies brushed softly as Conner's fingers skimmed the top of his before letting his hand rest completely atop of Markus'. Copper fingers spread open, letting cream ones nestle between them. They curled slightly, squeezing gently before flipping over and allowing them to press palm to palm.

Conner could feel the rough calluses along the base of Markus' fingers and the very tips from playing the piano and guiding paint brushes over canvas. Markus' own fingers stroked the little rough patches on his ring finger and the base of his thumb, formed from all the writing with his favorite pen. Those daft fingers tickled his palm before intertwining with his, holding him close.

Neither of them acknowledged the change nor did they move to separate. The little tings indeed.


	7. Chapter 7

With his hand raised, ready to knock and announce his presence to the inhabitants inside, Conner found himself scrambling to the side to avoid the body that burst from the front door. Leo's face was red and twisted with fury as he stomped past. "Get the fuck out of my way, twink." He growled, charging down toward the beat-up Chevy sitting idle in the driveway. Conner stared after him for a moment before turning back to see Markus' frame filling the doorway; brows pinched, cheeks dark, and eyes focused on his half-brother as the car's tires squealed on the pavement.

Grasshoppers filled the silence as Conner watched the muscles in Markus' jaw clench with bridled rage. "What was that about?" He asked breaking the silence.

It took a moment for Markus to respond, swallowing down as much of his anger as he could. "It's nothing," he hissed as that anger spilled over into his words. He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, willing his fury down. Slightly more in control, his eyes met Conner's soft brown ones. "Sorry. It's nothing you need to worry about." He replied as he ushered Conner inside and closed the door.

"Are you sure? Is there anything I can do to help?" Conner asked. The innocent question brought a small smile to Markus' face.

"Will you come sit with me?"

Conner nodded, and Markus led him into the living room where a beautiful solid black grand piano sat nestled among books and shelves and unique trinkets. Markus could still feel the anger bubbling up inside him and he hated how such a simple interaction with his half-brother could leave him crying for retribution. He sat heavily on the piano bench and was almost envious as Conner sat gracefully next to him. Thighs touching, arms brushing, Markus closed his eyes and focused on purging himself of these negative emotions, letting his fingers pick their way across the keyboard.

Cocoa eyes were riveted to the copper fingers as they produced a completely original tune with no references other than musical knowledge and the emotions of the heart. Conner could practically feel the anger, frustration, and desperation flowing through each note cord. His own concern grew when the harshness only rose with every crescendo. Reaching out with his own hand, he placed it on Markus' knee, letting the heat of his palm and strength of his fingers anchor to artist away from those feelings.

To his credit, Conner's bold move didn't interrupt the flow of music, but the shift in tone was almost immediate. Cool calm replaced a fiery heat and Conner could feel it surrounding and embracing him. As the last of the notes faded away, Conner glanced over to see green and blue staring at him. "Thank you." Markus breathed, and Conner smiled softly.

"You're welcome." His hand squeezed once before pulling away and his eyes did the same as a pick blush dusted his cheeks.

"Dance with me."

Conner's head snapped back to him, eyes round. "Wha…Are you serious? Right now?"

"Why not? No one's around to see." The other man insisted, standing from the bench and heading to a small stereo on a corner table. There was a whisper of words before a soft beat and guitar resonated through the speakers. Markus extended a hand and Conner only hesitated for a moment before allowing himself to be pulled from the bench. His partner guided him out to a clear space in the center of the room. A hand wrapped around his waist and pulled him close. He tried to keep eye contact, but his blush made it difficult and so did Markus' smile. His breath was coming out in shallow pants and he was sure his hands were starting to sweat. Disgusting.

"Relax. Just sway to the beat."

"I know how to dance, Markus."

He could practically feel the eyebrow. "Really?" Markus leaned in close, lips barely brushing the shell of his ear. Yeah, _that_ was going to help him relax. "Then prove it."

Conner's glare did nothing but make him chuckle, so he just sighed and focused on moving his body with Markus'. He soon found himself drifting on a sea of notes and touches. Markus' hold on him was firm and warm and not at all constricting. He was starting to feel things that he had never felt before. Feelings he didn't even know a person could feel and he wanted more.

Markus brought their joined hands to his chest, letting Conner rest his palm against the soft cotton of his shirt. He could feel Markus' heart pounding beneath his fingertips. Overcome by a sudden urge or a bout of courage or both, Conner stepped closer, closing that obnoxious gap between them and letting himself be encompassed by his warmth. His arm laid across Markus' shoulder as his fingers danced up the back of his neck, stopping at the base of his skull and bringing him even closer.

Stubble scratched at his smooth cheek and down his neck before warm, soft lips pressed against his skin just above the collar of his shirt. He shivered and sighed. He could stay like this forever- he wanted to- wrapped in the arms of the man who, in the space of a few months, had become more to him than anything else in his life. Who made him feel things he hadn't know he could feel. He wanted to feel them, every day, for the rest of his life. He never wanted to let go.

Markus' head lifted from his neck and gazed at him with eyes so intense, he felt frozen to the spot, unwilling to break the spell that hung over them. Warm hands trailed up his arms, leaving goosebumps in their wake, to cradle his jaw. Those intense eyes flickered to his mouth. Please. Oh, please. His own hands clutched at Markus' hips, fingers pressing into the bone. Markus leaned in close, the tip of his nose skimming the bridge of his. Warm breath caressed his cheeks and face. Conner wanted to taste him. God, just kiss him already. He was tired of waiting. Closer still, lips just a hair width away.

A loud beep from the intercom had Conner jumping in surprise and Markus pulled away. "Fuck," Conner muttered, and Markus chuckled.

"That would be Carl," Markus explained not bothering to move.

"Aren't you going to answer? He might need something." Conner was practically cursing himself for urging Markus away and then for being so selfish. "Go take care of your dad."

Markus' thumbs caressed his cheeks a few times before he reluctantly pulled away. Conner watched him climb the stairs, more than a little disappointed. Carl, you've got terrible timing.

* * *

Amanda Stern's office was just as intimidating and unnerving as Conan described and Gavin had to consciously fight the urge to turn and get the fuck out. It was probably due to the giant ass wall of flowers in the center of the fucking room. The red roses looked too much like dripping blood and it was doing wonders with putting him on edge. Maybe that's what the woman had in minded when she designed to place. Fucking creepy.

The CEO hadn't even bothered to turn around and acknowledge him like a fucking decent human being. Jesus Christ, she was already getting on his nerves and she hasn't even said a word yet. He cleared his throat as obnoxiously as he could.

"Yes, Mr. Reed. I know you're here." She said pleasantly still without turning.

"Well, are you going to tell me why or am I walking out of here?"

"Patience is a virtue, Mr. Reed. You'd do well to remember that." Gavin rolled his eyes and she finally turned. "You're here for a business opportunity."

There was a raised eyebrow to that. "'A business opportunity'?"

"I understand that my son has employed your services for a particularly interesting project and I'd like to know what information you have given him."

A bit of blood in his veins froze. Was she implying what he thought she was implying? He cleared his throat again, but this time to genuinely clear it of the obstruction trying to prevent him from speaking. "You are aware that there is a confidentiality agreement between myself and Conan that I cannot break."

"I'm prepared to pay you triple what my son currently is, as well as any damage that may come from breaching that contract. All I ask is that you provide me with the information you've collecting for him."

A swirl a bitter disgust rose in his belly. "I apologize, _ma'am_. But a breach of contract would do more than put me out of hundreds of dollars, it will affect my reputation as a private investigator and that is bad for business." He smirked. "Thanks, but no thanks." He then turned on his heel and strode out before she could have a chance to say anything more.

Amanda almost scoffed at the uncouth attitude that this _Gavin Reed_ put off. Why her sons chose to work with some of the lowest of Detroit's working class was beyond her. Well, there were other ways to get what she wanted. Walking stiffly to her desk, she pressed a single button on her intercom and waited. It was answered almost immediately.

" _Yes, Mrs. Stern_?"

"Get me Perkins of the FBI."

" _Yes, ma'am."_


End file.
